


The Horror.

by captaincoolclaws



Category: Original Work
Genre: Girl - Freeform, Jerimoth, Other, Ragazza, Scoraggiato, despondent, dove - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincoolclaws/pseuds/captaincoolclaws
Summary: This story starts with a girl named Ragazza Eternita Destino walking up the famous sunset peak to meet her boyfriend, Gary. Instead of meeting him though, she is greeted with a burst of light that transports her to a mysterious place where she is greeted by a scoraggiato (score-ah-jat-oh), a deadly werewolf. Meanwhile, Aidan Dove Shapa, a 15 going on 16 year old boy is struggling to bring back his brother who he had lost three years ago to negative energy. The scoraggiato, a stronger, bigger werewolf, is actually his brother, Jerimoth Kane Shapa. The boys live in a world where beasts, whether they be humanoid "aliens" or animals that can speak the English language, rule all. Aidan and Jerimoth's parents didn't last long after after Jerimoth's transformation. Despite all attempts, They could never bring him back so gave up. Took the easy route. Death. Aidan was left alone with an unstable mind and an impossible task. It's only when Ragazza shows up do things start to change.





	1. Shaky grounds

September 14, 2010, 6:00.

Ragazza “Eternità” Destino : Age 15, has greyish, desaturated brown hair and bright amber eyes. Today, She walks up the famous, and infamous, local cliff named simply sunset peak, northernmost of the small city she lives in. The town varies quickly from endless, golden fields with scattered farmlands and apple red barns, to towering skyscrapers and masses of buildings clumped in a vague oval. The name given to this land which holds the hearts of its citizens so strongly is “Lavorando,” meaning working. The working land that functions as well as a heart, hence its monthly nickname “Love-orando.” In total, there are 1,596 people. Sort of an abandoned miniature San Francisco, but without the water. It was founded by an Italian farming family sometime in the 1800s and in the 70s grew popular for a solid 15 years, businesses leaving massive spires in their path. It is now the year 2010 and the Destino family barely survives another year as a poor family of farmers, seemingly old fashioned to the rest of the town, living just outside of it in the south. Despite their unyielding crops, they seem to find a way to make money nonetheless. Ragazza, on the other hand, is not like her parents, living in the modern world, enjoying contemporary music, pop culture references, and cliche internet trends just like her boyfriend, Gary, who she is just about to meet with… At least, that’s how it should’ve gone.

“Ok, just stay calm. Everything is fine.” I breathe through my nose, exhaling every other step up the steep hill. “I’ll just get home so late, they’ll be asleep by the time I return. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.” I mumble myself some reassurance after what I just did, a sly scheme. I looked to my left where the sun was setting, just the sight of it helped melt away the stress of family and conformity. It was only recently that I started to gain a scratch of popularity among my higher-up peers, but that wasn’t my doing. All credit belonged to Gary. Ever since I took that deep breath, when I held my core firmly to my back as well as stocking my impulsive confidence to approach him at the turquoise lockers, everything that happened there on resembled a dream. Not much later my peers have been noticing me, especially when Gary was a coveted trophy to be won. While elementary school girls at other schools pretended to be disgusted by the idea of being romantic with each other, or a genuine fear of being constrained to the reins of a relationship, it was all my peers and I longed to have, perhaps because of ignorance. The other girls must’ve seen it as a status, another reason to be a braggart, but my reasons were more practical, innocent, probably unrealistic. What drove this fixation was the dreadful loneliness, the longing for warmth, to be chosen in this overpopulated world. Perhaps the fact it was burned into my brain every February by our town’s slogan, “Love-orando.” Now, no longer do I feel so inferior. It’s been a fantasy being with Gary, despite my concerns for the reason he ever asked me out, but it didn’t cross my mind too often. If I’d held myself a little higher, maybe this would’ve never happened.

Why does Gary want to meet up so late? The hazy lighting was settling on the land of the workers, and the beautiful golden rays that shaped the harsh edges of the cliff’s boulders were starting to appear, only to fade. It was almost dark, Almost being the key word. He thinks that sunset is just a few unnecessary hours before real fun begins. Unless, that’s it. Naturally, my mind goes to that place. It’s alright, isn’t it? I mean, It’ll just be a fond, juvenile memory when we’re engaged. A part of me hopes when my dream life continues, he’ll hold out his hand in which I’ll give him mine and we’ll run away to a rich, bustling city together. Then we can carry on without the approval of my thick-skulled parents. They just don’t understand how it feels… to want something so terribly, and feel like you‘ll never have another chance to earn it, despite your every effort. It’s just your genetics, all you’ve ever known.

I’m pretty outgoing when I want to be, I believe. The thing I crave most is to be noticed and accepted by the more superior high school cliques, or anyone for that matter. The group I felt was the most closed off to me was the stereotyped bad boy group, which I wasn’t upset about or anything, it’s not like anyone was initially my type. That was, until Gary caught my attention. I overheard a conversation telling me he’s careless with his girlfriends, but when I stared at him from a distance with his Ex, it didn’t seem he could possibly act as such. So I approached him, and here we are. Gary, I found out, was the gang leader of A “detention group.” If you found yourself with toilet paper hanging from your gutters Halloween’s eve, or spotted a tac on the teacher’s chair, the culprits would most likely be one of these boys. I’m attracted to the fun in it all, not so much the cruelty that it is. Even I knew this group was a painful stereotype.

That’s what my peers were like. I don’t know what people see in me, I guess nothing. ‘Nothing’ was what deterred my peers from conversing with me, dullness is what hides any beauty I possess and replaces it with a sort of repulsion. I had wished and wished ever since I was two-thirds the size of an upright mailbox, that I would find myself someone like Gary, someone who unconditionally loved me, and adored me like I would them. That defined Gary, or atleast, that’s what I thought. It took a while to regain that belief, because what I hadn’t known was how some kids knew me better than I thought they had, how I was so reckless to fall into elaborate, mortifying deceit.

I clumsily trip on a small stone planted firmly at the base of the cliff. First, my knees hit the compact trail, then the impact from my swinging orange backpack forced my face to the ground, scraping my cheek. “Dang it” I swore with what little breath was left in my lungs. Steadily, I rubbed my palms across the dirt and slid my elbows under my shoulders, lifting myself from the ground into a kneeling position where I assessed the damage I’d collected. My knees were torn, but only slightly bleeding. They had the rouged texture that most definitely called me out for the dirt-kneeling, tractor riding, muddy fingernailed life I inherited. I swiped my cheeks with my dusty hands, no blood. Glancing at the top, I had a renewed sense of faith and I hastily picked myself up and continued hiking the steep pathway of Sunset peak, burning my calves with each step. Sunset peak has always been a romantic place, prom invites, proposals, confessions, It’s all been ritualistically done on this peak. The peak is part of a collection of chain of mountain-like hills that ring around the north side of Lavorando. Actually, sunset peak has an ominous twin named “despair point,” quite the opposite. I’d rather not get into it though, it’s a notoriously dreary place.

After what felt like a solid two minutes of desperate climbing, I reached the plateau of peak, expecting to find the devilishly hot, lengthy teenage boy wrapped in a deep red jacket, everything I was so used to loving. Instead, what I found was a piece of lined paper taped to a smooth rock at the base of the point. Gary must’ve placed this in a hurry! I wonder what could’ve happened. Carefully, I unstick the note and read it’s jagged contents. It read;

“Hey Ragazza, as you’ve probably figured out already, this is from Gary.” I had figured as much. “I wrote this letter so I wouldn’t have to tell you in person that we have to b r e a k. u p.”

I pause, horrified at the words, “Break up.” The cogs in my head stuttered until it came to a slamming halt. At that moment of time, The world stopped turning, the clocks stopped ticking, the birds stopped flying, my heart stopped beating, and EVERYTHING just stopped. My whole world, everything I’d wished for the future, all of the plans, the way I did what he wanted so his heart would beat with the same magnitude as mine. Shattered. It was all frozen, for me to process those words. Breaking... up…?

With my next exhale came a whirl of feelings, causing my eyes to wince from the sting of my salty tears. SHAME! YOU SHOULD FEEL ASHAMED! You were used. You’re such a fool. You fell into his trap. Powerful sobs escape me at a rapid, rhythmical pace. Did you really think that your first love would really be the one? Oh please, you’re so naive. I hate you. YOU HEAR ME, I DETEST YOU. I wish I weren’t stuck with myself, someone so idiotic as to let someone like him do something like this. To be so obviously desperate, to be so loathsome no one would shed a drop of concern. I gazed through a blanket of tears at my shriveled hands, which after I placed back onto my face so I could dig into my eyes with the corner palm of my hand. How could I even begin to believe I’d ever coexist with them when they know my place, to have them love me with no nasty ulterior motive. I should’ve known by the way he’d scowl at me when I intervened in his fights that he didn’t feel half as in love as I was. Heck, he didn’t feel a quarter. My cheeks were flushed with rage and embarrassment. They’ll be talking about this at school for sure, it was his plan I’d fallen so willingly into. I was too much of a fool. I had fallen into deceit.

I continued to sob so hard it was like banging my head against a wall when, eventually, I broke away from my hands to warily finish the rest of the letter. I was reading the next sentence when I noticed a second sun in the south, one that grew larger with every second. It was so mysterious, so fast, and so blinding. I couldn’t even see the graphite on Gary’s letter anymore. The light, it’s not abating. I closed my eyes but I could see through my eyelids that the light was surrounding me, engulfing me in it’s warmth. What the heck is going on?! Am I dying? Then I feel myself plummeting, my heart beating trillions per minute while a single tear glided down my cheek. The last thing I felt before I hit the cold hard ground was a smile creep across my face. At the moment, I believed it was because my misery would be taken away and I wouldn’t have to face the ridicule waiting for me back at Lavorando high, but my instincts disagreed. It believed in something it hadn’t known yet.


	2. Sticks and sounds

Ragazza E. Destino: She lay cold and unconscious on a flexible layer of twigs, something that shouldn’t have been soft enough to break Ragazza’s fall, but it was soft enough to break a trip which was what it felt like when she entered this world. A new air, hence a new fall. When she wakes, it’s still about six o’ clock. 

I woke up to a row of trees sticking like spikes, all from the ground’s point of view. It looked like one giant photograph dunked under water and held to drip. Sluggishly, I lifted my back off the ground, feeling lightheaded when I lifted my hair from the branch’s grasp. Truthfully, I was a little disappointed I didn’t have even a scratch on my body from the massive fall I just took... Or thought I took. What just happened is beyond me, but whatever it was clearly wasn’t as deadly as I hoped. I guess if I planned to die, I should’ve gone to “point Despair” instead. A sudden chill runs up my spine and travels to the tip of my nose and the pads of my fingers. It was like a flame traveling up a wick or a spark zooming through a wire. I look down at my hands. I can’t even see them! Or anything else…. WHAT the HELL just happened?!? Everything around me, even the rows of trees bending every which way, was blurred and smeared like a filthy, oily camera lens. I fluttered my eyelids, hoping they would act like window wipers for my sight, but to no avail. 

“Wha- What is this…?” I mumble, noticing empty tears falling from my damaged eyes in pitiful attempts to clear my vision. It was no use, my eyes were basically melted at this point. What gave me a bit of hope was the sharpening outline of my black leather boot. Well, now almost grey leather boots seeing as the light must’ve grilled them to ashes. It made a rather cool effect, like spines of a porcupine made of ice. What really made the pattern ominous though, was that fact that it was even there, that what happened wasn’t some nightmare, but was a disturbing reality. Right now, it didn’t seem too surreal though. Maybe I was shot with a tranquilizer or something and was dragged to a random forest behind Sunset Peak, that would explain the light nearly blinding me. But why did it feel like I was actually falling? In truth, I neither wanted to believe that theory or any other besides the one where I was still asleep on sunset peak. 

My hands scrunched the ground below me, seeing details I couldn’t. Below me was a melting snow puddle that felt like a 5-minute old ICEE spilled on a two inch layer of twigs slathered with mud. The cool wind softly blew on my sun-licked face and whipped my dull brown hair. I rubbed the mud stuck in between my fingers, and huddled there in the sludge and snow, pondering what could’ve happened. Naturally, I was drawing a blank because only someone like Einstein would know what’s up in this situation. I realized my backpack didn’t fall with me. If someone did this, why did they take off my backpack? I’m sure they didn’t find anything valuable. Since I was getting nowhere, I decided the best next move would be to get up and look around. When I placed my foot to rise, a thin branch snapped loudly and reverberated through the emptiness of the forest, emphasizing the saturated feelings of loneliness that soaked the trees from the roots to the needles. Cold and lonely was what this place reeked.

Even with my leather jacket, I couldn’t stop the cold from piercing my core. I swear I am going to freeze out here. When I stood up, things suddenly looked a lot clearer than before. I could see a straight, undisturbed pathway surrounded by pine trees on both sides and covered lightly with patches of snow. I couldn't see much past the mist up ahead, but my guess was the road was seemingly infinite. It most resembled a hallway with a clear ceiling where the sun looked like it was airbrushed to the painted sky and was barely visible in the fog. Then I realized, The forests in Lavorando don’t have pine trees, where the heck am I? 

*SNAP*

A crunching snap emerges from the right side of the pathway… close. To this, I felt increasingly aware of how vulnerable I was. I hoped it was nothing but a decaying tree or a stranded deer, but when I looked over, it was nothing of the sort. I could make out two golden dots 6 feet off the ground. They were so vibrant, it looked as if they were glowing, but that might be because of my slight visual impairment. In the moment as my sight miraculously cleared from rapid blinking, I saw that the dots were attached a hunched over, beastly silhouette with chunks of hair sticking out everywhere, a waterfall-like tail swerving from behind it. Pointed ears protruded from it’s head and a misshapen, bent snout was twitching, memorizing my scent. This thing was taller than any Hollywood werewolf but bulkier and had a more menacing appearance. It had long hair, at least as long as a bob, hanging from it’s elbow. It’s most horrifying features were its yellow, bone-snapping-ly sharp fangs sticking prominently in the beast’s scowl and it’s bright golden eyes illuminating the trees. I wasn’t sure if I should yell at the thing like I would a bear, or freeze on the spot and wait for it to walk away. Even then, yet I refused to acknowledge it, deep down I sensed a superior intelligence from the hulking shadow.

For a couple of slow moments, the animal nodded its head to the air, trying to catch whiffs of my peculiar scent. The creature’s small pupils were still glued on mine, studying me, probably making sure I didn’t move. Eventually, it slouched down on it’s beastly claws, hiding from me in the copse. I was divided whether or not to be relieved or terrified, but the next sound answered that for me. The large werewolf growled in a low, rumbling pitch that shook my spine. Then, it sprang it’s way out from the bushes, landing and charging at me with impeccable speed and power. I let out a distressed scream and started sprinting along the trail for dear life, wailing for help, hoping this is all some sick virtual reality game. My boots were thumping on the snow, threatening to slide, but everytime I slipped I caught myself back up and started running again. The creature lunged at a diagonal angle, every leap taking them a foot closer. I swung back just in time to see its jagged teeth inches from my neck.

Just when I thought my life was coming to its regrettable end, a cool-colored figure swooped from my left and swiftly seized my wrist, barely saving me from a lethal bite by pulling me to their side and out of danger’s way. Then, everything blurred again as the person ran off at a speed an Olympic athlete would have, dragging me pitifully behind. It was so fast, I could barely see what was going on around me and I was near numb from the relentless cold blowing into my jacket now that my savior was sprinting. All I could feel besides my legs failing to keep up was this character’s abnormally warm glove and all of their attempts to pull me up to their side. 

I hear the hideous dog-man open its massive jaws in a deep inhale and the tempo of its feet fasten. It caught up with me, threatening to separate my hand from my arm. I saw the fuzzy outline of the thing rapidly enclose its jaws over my fists. I didn't even try to hold back my shrieks of terror. In response, there was panicked gasping and grunting from the person grabbing my wrist as they made an effort to speed up and lift me to their speed. We’re getting away! If I weren't so petrified, I would force a victorious smirk seeing as I have competitive nature. As we were successfully gaining speed I forgot how much risk there was and attempted to punch the thing in the nose. It saw my wind up and timed when it would snap down on my hand. Thankfully, when it bit down on my swung fist, about the moment I realized I had made a careless mistake, the holder jerked me forward, sparing me a lifetime of pain. Unfortunately, a sharp fang stuck to my hand and pierced my skin, causing me to ooze out blood. I got… too cocky… 

Suddenly, we skid sharply to a halt, bringing my vision back to step one. Blood was pulsing through my injured hand, the right one the stranger was not it control of. The figure holding my wrist threw me to the right, sending me stumbling and tripping on a decaying wooden porch. They gasped, probably realizing their own strength. At this point, I felt it would be better if I hadn’t looked at all. Maybe If I keep my eyes closed, they’ll heal when I need them, so from then I decided to keep my eyes closed. Now when I die, It’ll soften the horror by reducing a single sense. I heard frantic footsteps rush over to my side and felt the glove slip under my hand. 

“Uh, sorry. Here,” They helped me off the plank floor. Their voice sounded masculine, well, masculine enough to tell, but It carried a sense of power, no, effort, as if it had been trained time and time again. Though I had wanted to see my savior, I worried what would happen if my eyes touched the air at it’s weak state again. The glove led me up another step and pressed my knuckles against a metal door knob. “Quickly get inside,” He whispered, his voice sounding young like a teenager which surprised me because his hand was so large, I would’ve guessed he’d be an adult. Hasty to oblige, I sharply turned the knob and used the tip of my boot to kick it open. I slammed the door and held it there with the weight of my entire body. Like a slanted metronome, my chest rose to the uneven tempo of my breath.

I cautiously felt around for something, anything. Fortunately, the closest thing to my left was a scratchy, cushioned couch which I gleefully collapsed onto. What the heck was that thing?! Where the heck am I? WE DON’T HAVE WEREWOLVES IN LAVORANDO! Questions rushed through my head in a whirlpool while aggressive barking echoed from outside. Wait, I think I can probably open my eyes now… right? I snapped open my eyes which, surprisingly, were in perfect condition. I could see the texture of the ceiling to the wooden frame of the front window. Speaking of which… I looked outside the foggy window of this unfamiliar abode. The first thing my eye caught was the shimmering fang of the beastly werewolf. I shrieked and curled up into a shaking ball, hoping if I ignored it all I’ll find myself asleep on the top of sunset peak. 

Once I gained the courage to peer out of the window once again, I heard harsh laughter booming from outside the walls. “What’s a matter Jeri? Can’t catch me? Maybe it’d be easier if you just gave up,” The voice teased. I wrapped my fingers around the frame of the window and rubbed a large circle on the bottom left corner of the fogged window. From what I could see, the boy wore a purple, leather robe of some kind and dark, muddy boots like mine, but round and made of felt. He wore loose black jeans that bunched at the opening of his boot. His light brown hair was kept very carefree and messy, but had a natural uniformity to it. The little strands of hair stuck up and wrapped around the curve of their ear… their ear… I wasn’t sure, but It had a tint to it. But when he turned back to face me, waving at me with his black glove, that’s when it really hit me that this wasn’t reality anymore, but a freakish fantasy. The boy’s face, his skin... was the color of a lake. He was blue. 

This time I didn’t scream, but I just froze, wide eyed gawking. He’s… He’s blue… Freaking BLUE!!! WHAT IS THIS?! To my reaction, he just shrugged and chuckled to himself, turning again to the beast. “C’mon! Try!” He yelled, causing the thing to growl like it did before. To this, the blue boy laughed, laughed like he had a life to spare. It was maniacal, so harsh the sun would be able to hear only for a millisecond. The boy then narrowed his eyes, keeping his smile. There was a patch of grey under his right eye, a giant, smeared burn. Looking at it, I could feel the pain the scar must have induced 

The werewolf howled and viciously stomped the ground, which aggravated my shaking even more, making it overwhelmingly fierce. The wolf then charged at the boy, running at an invisible speed, jaw open to the size of his head. I only saw a flash of blue before the bang of the closing door and a following crash. I could hear it squirm and scratch at the door, tearing off splinters of wood. I curled into a ball again, biting my lip to prevent a scream. No, this can’t be happening! Maybe I’ve gotten lost on a movie set or something! Even if I had wanted to see what was happening, I couldn't, I wouldn’t budge from my fetal position. "Jerimoth, don’t be rude! You're scaring our guest!" He gave me a side glance and another one of his sharp, cold grins and the burn scrunched on his face. The werewolf barked and howled up into the air and into the thin walls of this broken-down house. I heard it's breathing intensify aggressively as it faded into the deep forest, leaving me alone in horror.

The blue adolescent gave a sigh of relief while I stayed frozen in place on the mustard colored couch. Loud, slow breaths were escaping me, knowing he was acknowledging any of them. I could feel the frosty breeze from the gaps in the wood linger on the tip of my nose and sit there while I dare not shift from my curled position to warm it. I kept my eyes tightly shut, hoping the stranger would just forget I was even there. But to my confusion and delight, my feeble skin was met with the rough texture and the soothing heaviness of a woolen blanket, which felt as warm as if it just came out of a dryer. It floated down onto my shivering body in deliverance from the cold, and for that I was grateful. It reached everywhere, excluding my face. 

A few seconds or silence later, I opened my eyes to meet the looming figure’s light brown eyes and a frown smeared across his face. He wore a sympathetic expression with just that hint of excitement hidden in his brows.

“Hey,” he greeted me in a quiet voice. He probably expected an answer, but it already took so much courage to look, I was scarcely prepared to speak. “Uhm. Sorry about Jerimoth. He’s not himself right now if you couldn’t tell. Yeah, my brother can get kinda rough around strangers,” He grins. I couldn’t help but stare at the cheek below his right eye that bore a nasty grey burn, discoloring his purple freckles. It kinda made me uncomfortable. Wait, That thing outside is his brother?! I bet he’s blue as well. I tried to squeak a sentence, but all I could manage were unreadable coughs. “Oh here’s something you should know,” He sang, leaning back towards the kitchen and away from where I was laying. “Jerimoth likes to circle the house at night so don’t worry if you see two golden eyes peering from out the window,” He laughed. My eyes widened in terror and my mouth twitched adjar. He gave another insane, playful laugh. “I’m kidding! He doesn’t like staying around here much. You’ll be sa-“

“Who the heck are you?!” I shout a question at him, interrupting him end-sentence. At first he was amazed at my force, then amazement soured to another one of his grins. 

“It’s not very important, but since you seem so determined to know, I’m Aidan Dove Shapa. How about my first guest? ” He gestured towards me, light brown eyes glued to my amber ones.

“I’m Ragazza. Ok, introductions over, where the hell am I!?” I yelled, even though it didn’t seem to have any affect on the pace of his answers.

“I know you’re… Ragazza, but I was hoping for a name, unless you just want me to call you… Ragazza?” He tilted his head towards his right shoulder and squinted his eyes, keeping the grin just a little bit crooked. 

“I get this a lot. My name is Ragazza Eternità Destino, ok!? Now will you answer my question?!” I ask again, simultaneously annoyed and freaked.

“My apologies, Ragazza. Huh, what a pleasant name.” He says staring somewhere into space, occasionally twitching with mania. I tried to ignore it, but it just went on with no sign of stopping. “We’re in the Shapa woods, just kidding, it doesn’t have a name.” He chuckled. When you’re in a situation like this where you’re completely helpless and afraid, the first thing you should always do is breathe, at least, that’s what my mother says, so I sighed and flushed all of the anxiety and irritation.

“Thank you for rescuing me, although I probably coulda scare it if you hadn’t come,” I mumbled, holding on tight to my last bit of ego. I felt a pulse in my hand from the blood spewing vein, but I had forgotten for an instant and wiped my face, smearing blood on my cheek and nose. Right then, I didn’t even care, I was too shaken up to care about anything. Aidan, on the other hand, wasn’t phased at all by the blood. 

“Hmmm, I don’t know, Jerimoth’s pretty ruthless. He’s no puppy you know.” He laughs maniacally for the, wait I’ve lost count. Honestly, it didn’t even matter to me how off-his-rocker Aidan was, Gary used me and dumped me probably to do the same to another unsuspecting girl, now that hes figured out a formula for these kinda things. Not only that, but the way I treated my parents before I left, they were right all along. I was filled with the highest despair and didn’t care what came next.

“If you want, you can help me with something. It's kinda crazy." He looks kinda serious now which makes me feel uncomfortable, but who cares. "We can talk about the ways you can help me tomorrow. If you want. I'm sure you're bursting with questions." He raised and lowered his voice in a singsong fashion. I guess I want to know where I am, why he looks the way he does and, most importantly, I want to know if there's a way home if I’m not stuck here forever. "You should get some shut eye though. You look tired and your eyes are red, so...." He looks away from me. As he said the word red I could've sworn I hadn't heard him exhale sharply... like a laugh? It was probably just my imagination or maybe it was something outside in the breeze.

"I'm fine. I don't care, I can at least try helping. Whatever it is." I say, tears forming in my eyes as I remember the days I spent in Gary's rusty old car. He had found it in a small, open area past the peak where no one lived. Gary somehow fixed the radio so we'd listen to the most popular songs of the day while we'd kiss in the back seats until midnight struck. This only happens in summer at night when it's dark and the only light we could see is from the moon and maybe one of our flashlights pointing towards the outside. Many times we have seen a deer or a raccoon. I would always squeal and scare it off with my flashlight. Now I see how wrong I was for what i had done… recently. I’m starting to think most of it wasn’t even his fault..

"Well, you should really get some sleep, anyway. I need you to, uh. It's an odd request, but I need you to sing so it would be, uh, great if you rested your voice." He looked at me hopefully.

"Wait you need me to sing?" I asked, surprised. I mean, I'll do it to help while I am here, wherever here is. it's just weird. 

"It's the only way I can save my brother. You don't have to do it but if you want to get home alive then I suggest that you help me." He said, starting to look worried and a little defeated. Was that a threat? He shouldn’t have a doubt I’m not depressed enough to help him, and since he helped me, I feel like it's the least I could do.

"Sure, I have nothing else to do." I said laughing a bit. My laughter rejuvenated something in him because his eyes seemed to sparkle like a firecracker. He quietly laughed. 

"You make it sound like a bad thing!" He laughs again, a bit of a familiar accent peeking through. "Well that's... perfect," he looked at me insanely and a little unsure. He stood up and wiped the dust off of his large jacket and looked back at me. "Scream if you need me. Uh... here," he tossed a roll of gauze onto my lap. I feigned a smile and started wrapping my hand "What are the words i'm looking for?" he scratched his head.

"Goodnight." I say to him.

"Goodnight?" He squints at the floor.

"Yeah, goodnight." He looks confused still. "You've heard of goodnight, right?" I say nervously. He shakes his head. Maybe they don't have the saying, goodnight here. "Goodnight, like sweet dreams, sleep well? Didn't your mom used to say that you or something," I mumbled, my hand uncomfortably tight in it's soft wrap.

"Barely, the meaning seems to be pretty obvious though. She’s deaf… and dead, so I’ve never heard anything like that…” he paused to breathe.

“Oh, sorry,” 

“No worries! She’s happy... goodnight Ragazza." He smiles almost satisfied. He looks back at me. All of a sudden I feel overwhelmingly nauseous, like I could faint at any moment. I roughly wipe the blood off of my hand and face with the blanket. I don't even care about the fact that I'm sleeping in a house of a person I just met, I just want some sleep. 

"Goodnight, Aidan." I say, half asleep already, enjoying the heat of the blanket while it lasts. I rub the blood from my face onto the couch's comfortable surface. I don't know what it is about this guy, I feel like he's not trustworthy but at the same time, he’s comforting? It's kind of scary actually. I feel like I can fall asleep right now but a voice in the back of my head is telling me to run out the door and never stop running. I think about it some more, but in a few short minutes I fall into deep a sleep. Something about this place makes me feel trapped. Those two brothers maybe, But why do I feel like it's something else keeping me here? Like it's all one big plan. Someone or something somewhere keeping me here for some reason yet understood. Whatever, I don't know and I don’t really care today.


	3. Untrustworthy

Ragazza: Sleeping on a mustard yellow couch stained with blood, torn at its arms, and burned almost to white.

Falling. Falling not into light, but into an endless abyss. My hair waving past my face, hitting my rosey cheeks and poking at my eyes. Maybe it's better if a can't see what is to come next. I watch the light slowly disappear, getting smaller and smaller as I fall deeper and deeper, the heaviness in my chest getting heavier and heavier. The farther I plummet the more melancholy I get, my throat being strangled by an invisible force. A shiver runs down my spine. From the remaining light, I see goosebumps covering my arms and legs and maybe my entire body. To my horror and surprise, the goosebumps grew rapidly, never stopping. They grew and grew until I was completely swollen from head to toe. Numb. I feel numb.

I open my eyes to find a wooden table covered in deep gashes, creating a barrier of splinters. I think to myself, it was only a dream, an awful, horrible, repulsive, dream. Thank God the only thing that was real about my dream was the goosebumps on my arms and the freezing wind blowing through the cabin. Though some of the wind was blocked by the thick fabric blanket, it still made my teeth chatter. I realized the back door in the kitchen was open. Wait. This isn't my kitchen. I look down, 'this isn't my blanket nor my couch nor my house!'

Then, like a frozen bullet, it hit me. The door is open, I'm sleeping in a strangers house who probably hasn't talked to anyone but this wolf man for days. I gasp so hard, I feel the air hitting the back of my throat. 'What am I doing here?!' My mind is now spinning and I feel myself hyperventilating. I throw myself off the couch, hitting the floor hard with my leather boots which creates a loud bang. Before I know it, i'm running out the door at full speed, hitting my hip on the frame. I squeal in pain, but the fear of whoever wolf man is, rejuvenates me and I'm sprinting once again.

Why did I stay at this stranger's place? What if he's some sort of psychopath that teams up with his brother, in a werewolf costume, to lure scared people into their home to kill just for the fun of it?! I mean, did you see the way he grinned when I said I'd Stay to help him?! He probably thought 'Oh, this is too easy! What a gullible girl! She'll Learn.' Even my thoughts are panicked and quick. I resist the urge to stop and breathe. "Just keep running and you'll be fine." I whisper to myself

While I was comforting myself, a black mass emerged from the shadows on my left and stared me straight in the face. I could tell because it's eyes caught the reflection of the moon, yet no pupil nor iris was visible. In fact, I couldn't even see the whites of its eyes, they were dilated to fit the midnight. I stumbled backward then fell onto the snow which was hiding a deeper layer of sticks and pebbles. I shrieked so loud, I could hear it echo for a solid 3 seconds. The black thing menacingly starred through me as a claw materialized, readying to slash at my face. Suddenly, I notice a dark brown muzzle emerge from the thing. A bear. I thought 'this is it. It's over. No more-‘

Then, all of a sudden, a blue figure rushed in between the animal and I. It was that boy named Aidan. Except this time he wasn't wearing his stiff, hoodless, leather coat nor was he wearing his long, black gloves which ended his shoulders. Why isn't he shaking? It's below freezing out here. Or at least it feels like it, but maybe I’m pampered. He's breathing heavily and I can see his breath in the clear sky. Aidan got on his knees and stared into the eyes of the bear.

"Per favor, padre!" Aidan yelled. Then he said something else in Italian. I couldn't tell what he was saying, I never paid attention when my family was trying to teach me, but by the urgency in his voice, I assumed he was reasoning with it. Or, at least, I think it was. Wait, Padre? Did I hear that right? The black bear stood idle like a statue until it finally lifted his arm and gashed Aidan's burned cheek. Blood poured from the wound, but miraculously, his skin reabsorbed it and healed fully in milliseconds. When I expected it to maul him, The black bear miraculously turned away from him and merged back into the shadows. I could've sworn I saw a grin on its pudgy face at the last second. Now it was Aidan's time to turn. He looked back at me, relieved but also a little annoyed.

"You're not hurt are you?" He said, trying to keep in the frustration. His eyes, half opened and his brows creased, he stared down at me, his smile, less like a smile and more like a scowl.

"I'm sorry but I probably could've- I mean, I just met you and you expect me to ..." my voice starts to fade. "You're blue and now you have the power to heal yourself in seconds?I-I- but I don't think I trust you!" I say now yelling. He looked down at the ground, then stepped sideways towards the house. He looked at me, probably shocked by my sudden burst of emotion. I was scared for my life. So terrified, I couldn't even trust someone who's helping me figure out this strange world… this very fantastical world only a child would imagine. Aidan sighed, and in the moment the tension dissipated.

"I'm sorry," he said with sincerity in his voice. " I should've known you'd never trust me," he said softly, almost whispering. I felt relieved at this moment, maybe he is somewhat trustworthy. Maybe I've got this all wrong. But, the next few words he spoke were disturbing enough to add to my aggressive and uncontrollable shaking. "But since you were clever enough, an admirable trait I must say, to see right through my plan," He pulls out a throwing knife from his back pocket and lifts it to his finger. He then slices his index finger and watches the blood drip until it disappears with the wound. "I guess I'll have to kill you earlier than I planned..." I'm taken aback by this. 'I was right?!!' I think to myself. 

I take long steps backward, my knees failing to hold the rest of my body. "No." I whisper, "You're sick,"

Aidan just laughed softly, then leaned backwards and laughed loudly at the sky. The moon must have heard him. The moon that doesn't belong to earth. "You think I don't know that?" He smiles at me. "There's no point in running. I'm faster anyway. Just hold still!" He asks, emanating mania. How many times have I been endangered? Three times if you count the time I went into the light, but something doesn't make sense about this. Why would he save me, only to kill me? Oh right, he probably wants to kill me himself, the psychopath. To end a person's life, it’s just too horrible, but I guess ever since last week or the week before, I haven’t been so innocent. The thing that made me so innocent as a child given away at my own free will with no hope of ever getting it back. I deserve this, as young as I am, I deserve this punishment, but still… to stand there and take it, fighting would be the last honorable thing I do. He raised his left hand and aimed carefully.

As he readies the throw, I duck down and decide I'm close enough to perform a hooked spin kick. There was a flicker of hope as Aidan's eyes widened in fear and he recoiled in pain, clutching his shoulder. The knife shimmered in the moonlight as it was dropped onto the cold, compressed snow. There it is, My freedom! Suddenly, the Knife that once signified my death now will be the thing to save me. I quickly made a move for the glorious knife, but dread passed over me again when Aidan had been quicker to the weapon. "BACK UP!" He pointed the knife at me threateningly. I did the only thing my shaken body would do, conform. I think about what my final words should be.

"I hate you, Gary. For what you had planned." I murmur to myself, chuckling.

"Shhhh." He shushed me. I would've screamed in spite of him, but decided I had wanted to die easier. I can see his arm fly back then release the knife. I close my eyes, waiting for a sharp pain, but instead I hear the knife fly above my head. Shortly after that I hear a wail from behind me. I spin around and find a 9 foot tall wolf-man behind me, knife right above his eyebrow. The creature staggered backward into the forest, clawing at the knife. Eventually I heard the mangled knife blade fall onto the ground and whimper from within the trees. Frightened, no, absolutely horrified, I turned and ran back towards the only safe place I know here. Only safe if I locked the doors.

Before I could open my eyes, I collided with something... or someone. I realized I had forgotten about Aidan and he was this thing I had run into. I was blasted with warm air, like a fire, which there was not, I was certain. Then I heard a voice, it was Aidan's voice. "Woah there, are you ok? Sorry I frightened you. And yelled. And threatened you. But I was never actually going to act on it. I was trying not to get my first ever guest eaten. I had seen Jerimoth's paw prints on the way here and knew I had to do something, but you wouldn't look up at me to see my signals so I just..." He says, hearing the pain in his own voice.

"Wait, so you faked it? Why didn't you just tell me?!"I asked shakily. Freezing from both the cold and the past fear that still lingered, haunting my every word. Aidan's facial expression turned sour.

"Jerimoth can understand some language. He's still himself anyway... I'm sorry, it probably wasn't the best way. But hey, that kick nearly killed me. If I didn't have that knife with me, Jerimoth would've been in serious trouble." He laughed. "In fact, I think I spared him." he said, lowering his head. I trust him now, although some things are not right in his mind, I'm sure I can trust most of him. Somewhere deep inside my mind, there was a suborn part of me surrendering. Now I am willing to try trusting this stranger, no, Aidan. For one to stop being a stranger in my mind, I have to call them by a name. Impulsively, I throw my arms around him, comforted by the odd warmth. This is one way to get myself to be more trusting and besides, it's freezing out here. That's the main reason. I feel him stagger backwards and feel his entire body become tense. He doesn't know what to think of this Foreign custom. "What is this?" He asks slightly concerned and a bit horrified.

In a soft, weary voice, I reply. "It's called a hug."


	4. Pancakes

"Pancakes."

September 15th, 2010. Wednesday.

Ragazza: Her and Aidan walked back to the house, silent. Aidan says he'll tell her all she wants to know about this area. Ragazza just nods, walking as close to Aidan as she possibly can without touching him. The heat emanating from him is mesmerizing and Ragazza becomes a little tired from it. When she reaches the torn cottage, she collapses onto the same, bloody couch from which she ran, and drifts off to sleep. Aidan trudges upstairs and to, what Ragazza assumes to be, his room.

A sweet aroma and the sizzle of a frying pan brings me back towards consciousness. Quickly, I close and reopen my eyes, everytime getting clearer until I could finally see the morning sun trickle through the window. I could tell today wasn’t going to be as gloomy, but no matter the amount of sun, I swear the temperature would never change. I take slow, deep breaths, trying to inhale the sweet scent wafting though the warm house through my nose. Then I heard humming. Soft, beautiful humming. Every note flowing into another, creating an alluring melody. I must know who is humming this tune so I can ask about it. Then I remember, 'oh, it must be Aidan. He's probably the only one here.' I prop myself up on my arms, then turned towards the kitchen. Aidan was humming quietly, but loud enough to hear over the sizzling. He grabbed the handle of the frying pan and lifted it into the air, sending a pancake flying. He skillfully lands it back into the frying pan, just about when the humming turns into a complete, sorrowful image. One with different shades of grey and blue. I just listen to the song, captivated by the intensely melancholy chorus, or what I assume to be the chorus. I close my eyes, letting the song control my mind, no distractions. After a few seconds of just listening, the humming stops and I reopen my eyes. For a moment, he looked at me, then turned away, face surprisingly red for someone who had blue skin. 

"How long have you," he paused. "sat there listening?" He asked, obvious regret in his tone.

"A few seconds," I say. "It was a beautiful song."

Aidan exhaled. "My brother made it before he-" Aidan swallowed hard. A look I cannot empathize crossed his face, this expression can only be described as unbearable despair and grief. But as if none of that happened, he suddenly flipped the pancake again, tossing it into the air. Quickly, he grabbed a white plate with a blue, floral pattern, and caught the pancake before hitting the stove. He looked at the plate as if he were looking at a stray dog, which you can easily count it's ribs, begging for food. Then he spoke softly. "You must be famished, huh? Well, this is the last of the mix I was given, but you can have it. I haven’t been eating much lately, anyway." He offered, smiling. "I don't know if you will like them though," He said doubtfully. "They're made with saccharine petals. A type of sweet flower found deep in the forest." I look at him, puzzled. Pancakes? Made with flowers? As if he had read my thoughts, he said "It's common for a sicurodom local to add things like tree bark and and grasses to their food, just to embrace nature. I find it disgusting, but the flowers here are really sweet, probably not where you’re from though. I think this flower can be too sweet sometimes, but that's just me." He smiled looking down at the pancake. Unintentionally ignoring all he said about the sicurodom, whatever the heck that was, and ‘where I was from’, I simply replied,

"Hmm, ok thanks. I guess it won't hurt to try." I give a hopeful smile. I was about to start eating with my hands, being a country girl, but resisted when he started to dig through the drawers. He passed me a clean fork with little, engraved flowers wrapped in vines. Kind of like his throwing knife. "Thank you. I can split it if you want. " I say quietly.

“No thanks, breakfast makes me a little sick sometimes.” He responded.

“Alright” I slice off a small piece. I hesitate at first, but then catch a whiff of that sweet fragrant and put the piece right into my mouth. The petals burst into pure sugar, then dissolved. My eyes widened. This was the best pancake I had ever tasted. This time, without hesitation, I stabbed it with my fork and devoured the pancake. Once I finished, I looked up at Aidan who was smiling. But this smile wasn't like all the others. It was an authentic smile that a mother would give to her children. Finally, the smile I’d prefer.

"So," he paused, walking around the island connected to the wall. "You like it?" He asks. "It's rare that I get any pancake making material and..." 

"Are you kidding me?!" I almost shout, genuinely surprised. "I absolutely love it!" I say with a bit more enthusiasm. I'm laughing now, laughing at myself and laughing because I was so pleasantly surprised, and maybe because I was on a sugar high. Aidan seemed pleased, confused, but pleased. More satisfied with my laugh than his cooking skill. 

"Uhm, Thank you? It's my original recipe." He boasts. "No, not really," I laugh some more.. Then he puts both of his hands on the table and leans across the table and towards my scrunched up body. "And you know what?" He says his eyes relaxed and fixed onto mine. Still smiling.

"What?" I answer, still laughing from all of this sugar. 

He chuckled, then replied. "My Mother was mute and the only girl I knew barely laughed. From what I can tell, you must have the worlds best laugh. At least, in this world you do..." he says. My laughter stopped. Something about it felt so personal, like something I wished Gary would say. Something that would make a heart melt, but instead it had the opposite effect on me. The next thing I know, I have this overwhelming emptiness in my chest, like my heart had disappeared. Apparently Aidan noticed that my facial expression had changed and he walked over to investigate. "Oh, are you... ok?"

"Yeah, it's just-" I say weakly. ”Nobody." I say, the sadness choking me. I sigh, letting out all of my anguish. 

"I’m sorry," He apologizes. "I mean," he starts laughing nervously. While he stepped back he combed his messy bangs with his fingers."If there’s anything," he looks over at me and pauses. "maybe it'd be best if I didn't speak." He frowns. I figured that I was bumming him out and made an effort to change the mood, bring back the levity. With a different expression I looked up at him and pushed back all the feeling hidden deep inside. Now, I'm sure he can see my face. He smiles back.

"Everythings alright. So, whats the plan?” I ask uncomfortably.

"Ok... Are you well enough to sing? Do you want to?" He asks. I nod my head. Hoping it would be the song he was humming this morning.


	5. Answers to questions

Ragazza: After breakfast Ragazza is full of questions.

"But first, you were going to ask me a bunch of questions, right?" He asked coolly. 

"Yeah!" I say, rather excitedly. He must have noticed the excitement on my face because all of the sudden, he was, too, full of energy.

"All right!" He said enthusiastically. "You might want to sit down, this is probably going to be shocking for you." He insists. I took a seat on another, mustard yellow chair that was just as ugly as the couch. He sat there silently for a moment. Aidan clasped his hands together and leaned forward in his seat. "Well, ask away." He says,

There's so many questions, what do I choose? Let's start simple. "Ok," I chuckle. "How can you heal yourself, and why are you blue?" I ask. 

"Healing? Ah, that's a hard one to explain." He said, uncomfortably leaning back in his chair. "Well, it’s a little bit like photosynthesis, but… I don’t know! Jerimoth can explain it way better than I can, and even he doesn’t know how I’m blue, exactly..." He says.

“Huh.” I nod, intrigued. 

"Yeah, I have the power to heal myself... and," Aidan pauses dramatically. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see Aidan's hand go up. As soon as he snapped, his hand was engulfed in flames from the wrist up. I jumped back in my seat, startled to the core. I somehow managed not to scream despite it. But not much later, the fear transformed into awe. "The power of fire." He smirked. 

“Woah," I say still focused on his fiery hand. He thanks me and asks me if I have any other questions. Of course I do. “What’s with that burn on your face?” I ask. He frowns like he’d been expecting it, but hoped I wouldn’t ask.

“That? I cry molten lava sometimes, but I never usually cry so it’s not that big of a deal. As a child though,” he inhaled sharply. “It really did some damage. I wish I could just wish this burn away…” he sighs despairingly. I nod my head, pretending like I could possibly understand the agony he must’ve endured. Well! Best keep the answer train moving!

"Um, hopefully you don't mind me asking, but what happened to your parents?" He frowned the moment I asked him. 

“Short story is, I was out, and when I came back… they were dead.” He replied plaintively and simply.

“Oh, sorry” 

“No problems here. You know what? My mother was just like you. She was from earth too. I mean, we are all descendants, but she was actually born there.”

"Wait, you mean she came through the light like I did!?" I ask, surprised. I get a tight feeling in my chest and stomach. I didn't know why at the time. Aidan nodded.

“The sicurodom doesn’t take outsiders anymore,” he said ominously. 

“Sicurodom?” I lean forward in my seat curiously. 

“Yeah, descendants of earth kind who isolate themselves from everyone else for no particular reason. At least one I’m not aware of,” he growls angrily. “They used to live out here, even built this house, but something happened that chased them away. Now the Dunes of Sabbiosa just beyond the caves and Lake Donna are strictly forbidden lands. Well, everything is forbidden now, I guess.” He slouches pitifully in his chair.

“Ah,” I exhale, imagining the different types of life that must live here. Then it struck me, “Aidan, did your mother tell you about Earth? Did she know a way back?”

“My mother was mute. She taught me and my brother how to read and write. My father taught us how to use those skills into ‘schoolwork.’ History was part of it. I read how the Sicurodom came to be, from earth people to sicuro. I can’t recall her ever saying anything about an exit.” He stated with disappointment.

“Oh,” 

”But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one…” He lifted my spirits from the grave. “Gul lives next to the exit, but nobody knows how to use it-“

“That’s WONDERFUL!” I shout, cheering and giggling in my seat. Yesterday, I hadn’t realized just how much I missed my parents. Who cares about Gary? I’ll repent, I promise I’ll repent! I’ll apologize to my parents, my teachers, everyone! I just want to return home and forget this nightmare. Aidan was clearly empowered by my laughter, a fire burning in his soul. Seeing how he was enjoying my laughter, I settled down instantly and sat respectively in my chair. “Well, maybe we should plan to go after we get Jerimoth back.”

“We?” He slurred.

“Yeah, all three of us! Is there a problem?” I ask.

“Oh…” he faded off. “Just you. I wouldn’t want to bring a scoraggiato to your world… for everyone’s sake, including Jerimoth.” He gazed out the window behind me longingly.

I nodded, a little disappointed, but I guess that’d be for the best. I carry on with my questions, then I remember. "Who's Gul?" I ask. I'm surprised Aidan actually knows someone. I start to feel guilty for my assumptions. 

"Gul is the current ruler of the sicurodom and the person who gives me food and trains me to be a part of his troops," he pauses. "Even though he knows I don't want to be, just as much as the people wouldn’t want me." He says, somewhat ashamed. "I'm supposed to become an official soldier at age 16, which, unfortunately, is in 6 days," He says, sounding almost bored. Woah, I expected him to be older. Hey, our birthdays must only be two months apart! How coincidental. 

I cleared my throat and asked the next question, “So, that thing outside is Jerimoth?” I asked.

“Yeah, Jerimoth has Ice powers, Scoraggiato, and minor teleportation powers, but part of me believes his teleportation isn’t so much a power and more a trick of the mind.” He laughs. “A scoraggiato is a giant dog, basically, but the thing that makes a scoraggiato what it is, is it’s core power source.” He stated. 

“Huh?” I spoke, confused by what he meant.

“A scoraggiato never sleeps and doesn’t have to eat. It feeds off of your anguish and wrath. Those two combined…” He faded off. His eyes looked almost grey staring out at the foggy terrain. The tragedy of his brother’s transformation probably swirled in his mind at this moment. Just when I was about to call it done, he snapped back into a cheery mood. “ Yeah, he was fairly negative. Ice powers are depressing and fire powers are uplifting,” he raised his hands and summoned two flames in each of his palms. “I’m the positive one, you could say.” He grinned.

“Okay?” I decided to not press further on what actually made Jerimoth scoraggiato, but might as well carry on with other things. “Tell me, Is Jerimoth Blue?” I chuckled playfully.

“No. He’s a really pale red, just like mom, but less… ghostly.” He smiled.

“Why not?” I pressed.

“His skin color is normal, mine is not. I can’t explain it.” He stated clearly. “It’s just kinda weird.” He smiled and shrugged, laying his head on the back of the cushioned seat. At least now I know what to expect. I pondered my last question before asking it.

“So, how is singing going to help him?” I question curiously. He laughs manically at that, which makes me shiver in my leather jacket.

“You’ll see. That reminds me, we’d better start learning that song,” he smirks.


	6. Shadows

Ragazza: she is eager to learn the song, wondering what type of song it is. Probably some simple rock or slow song. Her singing is quite average, so she’s hoping that she won’t disappoint him. 

"Ok," Aidan holds out an old tape recorder. I'm surprised, not only by how dusty it is, but that he's not just going to sing the song himself with his beautiful voice. Why is he so embarrassed by it? Aidan tries to brush off the dust only to create a small cloud of dust and a gray patch on his hand. He then brushed the dust off his hand with his other hand. No success. Ignoring it, he said, "Ok, We're going to listen to the song first. Thanks again for helping me. You really didn't have to-"

"Shhhhh. I want to," I interrupt. It felt so good when my mom would shush me like that when I was putting myself down. I’ve come to expect it at this point, it's kinda evil. 

He pulls out a leather journal. I take a good look at this decaying book, some of the pages being torn and folded. I can even see the indents of the graphite pencil in some of the loose pages. You could easily tell every inch was utilized to its limits on each page. It was rather impressive, although heavy handed. He drops it onto the table. "Then we're gonna try and see if we can play it ourselves." He grins mischievously and excitedly. 

He turned on the tape recorder and I can hear the voice of a child. I listen eagerly.

"Are we recording?" Asks the child. Then a voice I could easily recognize reassures him that the tape recorder is on. It's Aidan, but who's the other kid? Then it dawns on me, it must be his brother. "Ok! Three," the boy counts,"two... one!" 

I was pleasantly surprised by the blaring of an electric guitar through the recorder. The song was very sorrowful and regretful. When he started singing, Jerimoth, I could tell this was going to be intense.

"I hear this howling late at night. Deep in the woods, it calls me. I'm falling deeper into this mess. I don't think I'm alright."

The song kept going on about how he's feeling about this sound and how horrible this place is, but there's a small, truly upsetting, metaphorical part about a young girl which was a little strange and out of place with the rest of the song. What was even stranger, was the fact that Aidan was trying his hardest not to listen to this part of the song. I mean, he plugged his ears with his fingers, pushed the back of his ears forward, trying to block his hearing. I could've sworn I saw him shiver when that ‘she’ was mentioned. I assumed right away that it was supposed to be some sort of metaphor, but nothing came to mind. Maybe its a metaphor for being lost? I have no idea. Then the song ended with Jerimoth singing "Oh, but I already am." I guess he knew he was going to turn into a wolf or something. Then I heard Aidan's childish voice again. 

"That was great Jeri! Absolutely incredible," Aidan yelled, impressed and completely overwhelmed with excitement. He couldn't stop complimenting him. It was honestly adorable, Him ranting about how great certain parts were.

"Sure, but I bet it would've been much better if you had sung it, Aidan." said past Jerimoth. I smiled, waiting for him to say something, but then Aidan quickly grabbed the recorder. He fumbled with the tape recorder then, before his past self spoke again, he turned it off. I glared at him, giving him the ultimate look of disappointment.

"Hahaha, kids!" Aidan laughed, embarrassed. I just gave a confused giggle. The burn below his right cheek lifted with his smile, his blue boy smile. Aidan opened the journal to one of the few neat pages in the book. It was the lyrics to the song. He pointed to the page, a nervous expression on his face."You know," he breathed. "We could just wait for another day." He reassured me. Determined, I told him I'd try if he'd let me listen to the recording a few times again, promising I’ll stop after the song ends each time. He agreed to let me handle the recorder and let me listen a few times. The whole time I was listening, he brought out his acoustic guitar and started tuning it, practicing softly while I listened. After the fifth time hearing it, I told him I was prepared. My thoughts on the song? It was really emotional, but not just that. At the beginning, it was like a “ I have a fever and have to stay in bed all day” kind of miserable, but as the song progressed, it shifted smoothly to “everyone I know is dead” kind of depression. It was really well thought out and executed, hence forth, this is my third favorite song. I feel like I can’t listen to it, though, for fear I might burst out crying. Of course I was being dramatic...

"Ok! Ready?" I nodded, saving my voice for the song. "After three." He said. "One... two... three." And Aidan started playing the intro on his guitar, less intensely and more beautifully than his brother’s approach. It stole the anguish and replaced it with downright acceptance. It wasn’t true to the feeling of the song, but it was an outstandingly beautiful approach. He strummed with such grace and ease it seemed as if he were not touching the strings at all. I was so mesmerized by the music he was creating so effortlessly, I forgot to enter when my time came. Aidan stopped and stared up at me, awkwardly... "That was... your entrance." He said, I uneasily shifted in the chair. You know what! Forget the chair! I'm standing up! I stood, straight and confident.

"Sorry. I was just... listening." I told him. "I'm ready now!" I say. Then I realize something. Why does he need me to sing to save his brother? Is he really so ashamed of his own voice that he wouldn’t even sing for his own blood brother? I keep the question in my mind for later. I've already asked too many of those anyway. Aidan counted us down again. The intro was just as beautiful this time, I even remembered to enter. I read the lyrics, the handwriting so tiny, I had to hold the book and inch from my face. I entered in a low, uncertain voice, afraid to make too large of a sound. Aidan just kept playing, like I was doing just fine when I was stumbling on the lyrics and awkwardly pausing to catch my breath.

The whole day was like this, singing, playing guitar, laughing, listening to the recording a few more times, me messing up. Aidan's guitar playing was absolutely flawless and beautiful unlike my unreliable, hilariously cracky voice. Sometimes, he'd give me amazing singing advice if I asked. Things only someone with lots of experience would know. I'd say this day was a success. Not only did I learn to sing my new favorite song, but I also felt like a made a new friend. His name was Aidan. We laughed, he helped me remember my lines, and he gave me a few tips and warnings about singing. I asked him why he didn't want to sing, and he just said "Because I'm not too good and Jerimoth always thought this song might sound good with a female vocalist. He was curious. Our mother couldn't speak let alone sing and our friend just... didn't..." He said, then went off on a tangent. One of his tangents led to something pretty disturbing, something I hadn’t expected at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Hey Ragazza, I forgot to ask, How are your parents doing?” He asked, setting down his guitar in it’s open case.

"My parents are just fine. Actually, probably not since I'm missing and they have two less hands to help with the farm," I say plaintively. Now upset by the thought. Still, I was determined to stay positive while I was around Aidan, so I told him that they were, and still are, madly in love and would not rest until they found me, even though that might’ve been a partial lie.

"Huh, I wish I knew what that meant," Said Aidan hesitantly. 

"What? Love?" I ask.

"Yeah, something about it is so confusing and foreign to me. I can't understand it. It's like gibberish to me. The definition is blacked out in my dictionary, as many words are… but the word itself was left on the page for some reason, just the definition was blacked out this time," He paused. "Also I can’t read that page anymore, it makes the shadows in my head scream." He Blurted nonchalantly, Shadows in his head? Like ‘places the light never touches’ kind of shadow or something more sinister and supernatural? I can understand protective parents to an extent, but blacking out the definition of love?! Are you trying to impede emotional development and maturing? I mean, if it's really that inappropriate I guess it’s justified, but the entire definition of love?! Even then, it doesn’t matter that much. Kid’s just find out about this stuff eventually. Best be educated. I was raging inside, but hid my fury on the outside. 

"Here, I’ll explain it to you then. Well, love-" I stop, remembering how I once loved a boy named Gary. I just stared at the floor, one half of my brain trying to cheer me up and the other half blanking like it had been stuck on a static screen. It's useless though, my heart is already dead. In fact, now that I think about it. Why am I so friendly to this blue guy? Is that my heart desperately trying to fill a strainer? I thrust the thought from my mind, or at least tried. It came back. I don't even think we're friends! Just two people, or one human and one alien who just happened to run into each other in the woods, one in desperate need of help, I guess. Lucky guy, he doesn't even know what love or a relationship is, so he could never feel the pain of it. How tenuous it is. I guess Aidan saw the look of sadness and despair on my face because he continues to say it's ok and he'll just forget it. Speaking of forgetting,I ask, "What are the shadows in your head?" I'm genuinely concerned.

"The shadows are like ghosts who whisper threats in my ears at night and hide in my head in the day. They’ll fly past my eyes and squeeze into my eye socket like it’s a doorway. They aren't very happy with me right now." Aidan explains. After all the stuff I've experienced and learned today, I bet he's telling the truth. That's unsettling, but I don't say anything and continue listening. "They tell me stuff about you, but it's usually not very accurate. They're trying to turn me against you, but they're just shadows! They can't control me! All they can do is convince me and I'm not very convinced. You seem harmless." He huffed a surly sigh. They say stuff about me? I decide to ask him what they've said about me thus far. "Oh, only that I shouldn't trust you and that I'll end up getting hurt if I don't... get rid of you, stuff like that. I don't believe them though." How could the shadows say things like this? Why would they? Do they even exist? Should I be worried about Aidan’s dwindling sanity? I would’ve never considered these things in Lavorando, but down here the world is flipped just right to make you believe anything you hear.

"Well, if it will make you feel better, I'll promise never to hurt you." I blurted with no forethought. As soon as I realized what I had said, I averted my gaze across the room. After a second of concerning silence for which I was expecting a reaction, disgusted, offended, or just grateful, he clutched both sides of his head with his hands and started shaking vigorously. 

"Ow!" I looked up at him, frightened. He was shaking, and I mean earthquake shaking. He was shaking his head, side to side, violently. Thrashing his brain around like he was trying to pull its plug.

"AIDAN!" I shouted, terrified and filled with anxiety for what harm he may do to himself. Maybe if I shout loud enough, he'll hear me "Aidan! what's happening?!" He suddenly halted, breathing heavily, and just when I thought it was over, I heard Aidan chuckling, the shaking starting up again and getting more intense. As if it would help, I grasp both of his shoulders and start shaking him aggressively. I am forced to believe now, no matter how ludicrous it sounds.

"Knock it off! Leave him alone!" I shout desperately. Though I do not believe in these 'shadows', there is nothing else I could’ve thought of at that moment. The shaking stopped suddenly. The laughter slowly fades away. Prepared for another round, I clutch his shoulders tighter. Aidan looks up at me, purple as a plum. The blue way of saying red as a cherry. 

"I'm sorry you had to s-see that. That usually d-doesn't h-happen during the day." He mumbles wearily, almost fainting. 

"Did the... shadows do something?" I ask urgently, simultaneously letting go of his sleeve.

"Yeah, they were screaming and scratching the walls of my skull. It's not a rare thing. It’s just like a headache, no big deal. Ah! I didn't hear you speak though, did you say something?" I shook my head as if to say no, but the real answer was yes. I'm pretty sure he didn't hear me say 'I'll never hurt you' and I'm sorta grateful he didn't. I sat down in my seat again and remained silent until Aidan got us water from a glass vase and carried on with our previous conversations. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I could see the sun set behind the trees, and disappear from view. Aidan insisted that we should stop and rest our voices and, for him, hands. Good, my eyelids are drooping anyway. 

"Hey, do you want an apple or something?" He asked, sounding like a parent but a little more careless. The thought of my parents make me a little homesick, but I quickly ditch that feeling and accept his offer. He tosses me the ruby apple from across the room, instantly regretting what he had done by the sharp inhale. Like a professional baseball player without a glove, I catch it and fall onto the couch, laughing. After triumphant cheers, I get the urge to ask him a question. An awkward, but necessary one.

"Hey, Aidan?" I spoke softly. He turned to look at me, still polishing the apple. The way I spoke was comfortable and personal, like he was a good friend or a family member. Good, that’s what I was aiming for, a friend. 

"Yeah?" He replied. Then he took a giant bite out of the deliciously red apple. 

"Do you know what a friend is?" I ask him, unsure.

"Yeah.” He replied, shaken a little by this question. Surprised even.

"Are we friends?" I ask, feeling my stomach tense and my breathing get more harsh. I could hear my heartbeat like a quiet timpani. He paused, thinking carefully.

"I mean, yes. I think we are. Unless you still don't trust me." He joked. Then he smiles tensely and takes another bite of the apple, having his eyebrows creased in concern. The crunch is loud and somehow satisfying. Seeing how the crunch splashed apple juices on his blue skin made my mouth water a little in preparation for the food.

"Great. Because what I really wanted to say was," I paused. "Today was hecka fun!" I smiled. He smiled back and kept eating the apple, pondering deeply about something stuck like gum on his mind. I took a bite of my apple, too, which exploded with juices and gave a very satisfying crunch, but somehow it was a little bitter. After Aidan was done, he threw his apple in a basket, which I'd assume to be the trash can, and walked towards the door.

"Yeah, I had fun today too," he turned the knob on the door and smiled caringly. "I'm going outside to practice my knife throwing... I'll be deep in the woods… Get it? Oh, and don’t worry about me. I can handle Jerimoth if he’s there." He Spoke. I started to panic. Me? On my own? Powerless against a wolf man? No! I am strong enough to take them! I don't need help! I am a strong woman… Girl! But, still... "Don't worry. You're strong enough to defend yourself," He said reassuringly as if he had read my mind before I thought about it. "I'll be back in an hour and a half! Just... don't leave the house and you'll be safe." He warned me. I wouldn't dare ignore his words of advice. 

"Can’t I just sleep?" I ask. 

"Of course! I don't even know why I mentioned it," he chuckles. Of course I could sleep. As long as I'm in the house, I'm safe, right?

"Ok, Goodnight!" I say, knowing I'll be well asleep by the time he returns. He walked out the door and softly closed it as he returned ‘goodnight.’ I’d love it if that became our thing, saying goodnight to each other, even if it’s in the middle of the day, just to replace goodbye. That’d be fun. When I'm positive he's gone, I recite the lyrics to myself until I fall asleep. 'I've got this' I encouraged myself. Then, I closed my heavy eyelids and curled up in the thick blanket.


	7. The Before

Ragazza: it's 5:30, September 14th, the last time Ragazza saw her parents before stepping into Aidan’s world. She just walked back from school carrying a stack of this week's homework in her backpack.

Ugh, another day where she piles homework on us, not aware of the other teachers that might be giving us even more homework. I feel stiff and sore from the physical fitness tests our P.E. teacher gave us yesterday and the mile she made us run today. Just to think, it's only a Tuesday! I give a groan, wondering how broken I'll be by the end of this week. I'm cursing the teachers quietly when I hear the crumple of paper in one of the pockets of my jacket. What? I don't remember putting any papers in my pocket... I pull out the damaged, torn piece of binder paper. The sight of this soda stained beauty instantly lightened my mood. I could tell straight away that it was from my love, Gary. I sigh. 

Gary and I have been together since the 8th grade. Which was more than a year ago. Actually, now that I think about it, it might have been the summer of 7th grade. Still, I remember our first kiss as if it were yesterday. The movie, the moonlight, the running around the city, the lights, our hearts beating as one. Gary fascinates me. How can someone be so bad, yet so fun? To me, It's amazing. Lately though, I feel as if he's been avoiding me or ignoring me… ever since a week ago... But that's just a feeling! Maybe he's just as busy as I am. Maybe he wrote this note to say, I don't know, I love you?

Curiously, I straighten the paper. It read,

"Meet me at sunset peak at 6.

-Gary" 

Huh? That's it? What was I expecting, a poem or something? This is Gary we're talking about. He's a boy of few words... sometimes. The rest of the way home, I wonder why he's asked me to meet him there. Probably something like homework so I should probably bring my backpack just in case. The sky was a nice blue color and there were minimal clouds. In the distance, I saw an old, red barn that was slowly shedding its red coat to reveal natural decaying wood. Near it, there was another decaying building. A white one. It's small and occasionally makes weird squeaking sounds, but it's home. Then there's rows and rows of vegetables. You could practically taste the vegetables in the air. Of course, that means the crows can too. Whatever, it's been a long day and I still have 30 more minutes until I have to meet Gary.

When I walked up to the door, I remembered that neither my mother nor my father approve of Gary. Oh well, I'll just make up something. Maybe I'll say ‘I'm going to hang out in the barn’ or something. I open the door and let myself in. I tossed my backpack onto the couch and walked towards the small kitchen. My mother was in there, preparing some sort of meat. "Hey." I say. The short woman with the short, brown hair and blue shirt looks up at me with her brown eyes. She smiled a sweet and most definitely genuine smile. Everyday my mother gives me the same old smile. 

"How was school today, sweetie?" She asked. She asks this same question everyday, so many times, in fact, I've come up with a consistent response used by most of the kids at my school.

"Fine." I tell her automatically. No, it was not fine, but I hate it when adults try to interfere. Why can't I just tell them without it being a giant problem? Why can't they just shrug and say 'well, better luck next time.' Maybe that’s just my problem… The homework load is becoming more and more unbearable. I guess I'm just not the type to talk about their feelings. Nah, who am I kidding. I talk about my feelings all the time with Gary, his group, and my best friend, the lunch lady. Well, ok, maybe not the lunch lady, but hey, we talk from time to time! From the bathroom, a tall, broad shouldered figure emerges. It’s funny how someone as tiny as my mom, and someone as large as my father could be together. It's my father. I ignore him and turn to my mother. "Hey mom?" She looks up at me. "Can I visit Gary at six on top of sunset peak?" Before she could reply, my father walks up to the island and carefully places both of his hands down for support. His legs are stiff, he can’t walk well without a cane.

"No! Gary is only trouble! How many times do I have to remind you that you are not allowed to see him!" He shouts. I give him an intense scowl. My mother and father are practically starving. They don't have a lot of energy. Maybe I can out run them. My aunt pays for my education since she believes that all children deserve to go to school and get a job and become an adult. She's a ridiculously nice woman who would sacrifice anything for me to have an education, Yet she wouldn’t sacrifice a penny to feed my mother or the rest of our family. Even though she's done so much for me, she hates my mother with a passion which affects me every day. That's why she didn't let them stay with her until my family can find good jobs, even though she's rich. I, too, have been famished lately, but I've been able to keep up my work strength by eating generous donations from my friends. Why don't we just eat our crops? Well, when I said I could practically taste the vegetables in the air, I was lying. They're all rotting or already dead and my family needs more vegetable seeds and farm supplies but it's all too expensive and we get no money from rotten tomatoes.

"No! I am going to see him and there is nothing you can do about it!" I barked and looked around at them. "Look at yourselves! You're unhealthily thin and have no food! At least Gary actually feeds me!" I bark. And before my father could object, I ran out the door with my backpack banging against my side. I ran and ran and ran until a bruise started to form where the backpack repeatedly hit me. Thank goodness I had arrived at the peak in record time. Fantastic. I look up the steep pathway, intimidated. I can't wait to see what Gary has planned for me. It's always a fun time with him.


	8. Talkative

About 8:00

Aidan Dove Shapa

Description: Blue skinned. Age fifteen, turning sixteen on the twenty-first of September, six days from now. He had messy reddish-brown hair, much more on the brown side, but when it hits the sun, the ends glow red. Jerimoth has a real problem with weight and growth, even without such limited food supply. It was normal, so they never complain. Aidan isn’t emaciated thin, but the healthy type of slim. He was always more active. The most prominent feature though, was the burn under his right eye.

Aidan: He just left his home for his flexible lesson, what he lied to Ragazza about because he didn’t want her to know there was a quicker way to the exit. He didn’t want her to get too excited about it and assume she could just use the shortcut, it’s forbidden. She’d die, guaranteed. At Least she has a chance of survival if she tries to blend it, seeing as nothing about her is mutated and she’s the same ethnicity too! Well, one of the few ethnicities stuck in the Sicurodom. Also, going there every couple of days was already dangerous enough with Jerimoth. He can go because he’s fast enough, but they barely got away from Jerimoth yesterday with Ragazza dragging him behind. He was doubting he’d get that lucky again if the shortcut opened. The main entrance is unguarded at night because the people were afraid something might creep under the cracks of the door. Something. He couldn’t tell her. Something he couldn’t explain that made Shapas so different… so cursed. Anyway, it was his last lesson before his final test as a soldier of the Sicurodom. It was an attempt at making people see that I wasn’t contagious and that I wasn't in any kind of pain. Jerimoth is too dangerous. His ice powers make him emotionally unstable and that mixed with the fury and despair spark, imagine if there were more victims. Aidan is the key for all, and from long term danger to himself.

I should’ve never told her about the exit, what if they find out she’s foreign? They’ll go into mass panic. They’d capture and execute her! All the worrying is feeding my headache and the shadows are probably dying of laughter at my worry. They thrive on my pain, even when they cause it. This sounds crazy, but maybe I can ask to escort her as a soldier? But that’s too late, in the distance are some light rain clouds floating in, I think tomorrow is the day. I gulp. Lying is all I can do now. She wants to leave as soon as possible and tomorrow is the latest, but the latest is too soon. I’ve barely gotten to know her yet! It’s been a day! An eventful, rare, glorious day that i'll worship when I’m all alone in the Sicurodom. Safely going back and forth between Jerimoth and the people of Sicurodom… If I’m allowed. That’s the way it’s going to go. As I’m thinking of my future, a quiet voice softly, disturbingly whispers in my ear “Maybe she doesn’t have to leave,” the shadow whispered. I considered it for a moment, then came to my senses. 

“Knock it off!” I yelled, hoping only the shadows heard me. To my dismay, there was a snap of a branch behind me and I jumped three feet in the air, expecting Jerimoth right beside me. Instead, there was a large, white light bursting from among the trees. It creeped out from behind the front most tree, awkwardly hobbling on one leg. It was a glowing woman with a bloody knee pressed against a white, silky dress. One I’ve never seen her wear. It was dragged in the muddy snow. Her face was white and wrinkled with age, black hair tangled in clots on her head and a white streak of hair covering her dark eyes. I smiled, pleased to see her again since the last time we met it was raining. It was my very own mother. She looked terrified though, for me or of me I could not tell. All I could tell was that this was no small shock.

Her straight, black hair with a white streak starting at her fringe and following the curve of her skull, touched her shoulders. Length a little shorter than Ragazza’s hair, reflected the tinted moonlight with its darkness. It’s hard to notice at first glance, but the moon is a slight shade of purple… something that made people so afraid of the outside… The thing is, the moon can change you. Not the moonlight itself, but something that can travel through a wall of skin and flesh. You’re trapped in a potluck of mutations and whatever you get you can’t give back. I’m just happy, since we were born here and babies are more vulnerable, we weren’t born in constant pain and are deformed beyond belief. It’s safe to say we were a little more than lucky to have the abilities we do. It sounds random when I explain it, but Jerimoth is better at it. Basically, the moon pours down some sort of radiation that decides what you look like or your health. Umm… genotypes and phenotypes I think. Well, anyway, before birth and as an elder, you’re extremely vulnerable, so instead of just slightly changing the value of your eyes or the darkness of your hair, it’ll change the shape of your bones, flip the color of your skin, or give you whatever abilities are possible with little science. That’s why no one wants us, they think it’s contagious, my blue skin and my fire powers. It’s the most mysterious quality of this place… It’s what my father was trying to study before he died… 

Mother looked to be starving. She limped towards me, dragging her bloody, useless leg. I remember the day Jerimoth tore up her right knee. I wasn’t there, but my father told me about it. One day, out in the cold night, when the deer and ferret were still scuffling through the leaves, my mother snuck out of the house to confront Jerimoth about his deepest woe. While searching, she slipped in a puddle of mud and broke her knee on a jagged rock. She was unable to escape when Jerimoth actually came. When father got there, it was too late for her knee, but not for her life. Father fought until Jerimoth decided he wasn’t worth his time. Watching her walk in, knee to toe in light, warm blood. It was traumatic, but I was just a child and I got over it in a couple of weeks… if that makes sense. That’s when the shadows introduced themselves… shortly after that.

I looked down at my mother. She stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to bend down with surprising strength. She forced me to look directly into her eyes, her gaze intensely set into my eyes. Now I was the fearful one. After a few seconds, she let go and started writing letters in the mud. Angle by curve, she wrote out each and every letter in the smooth mud. “You know I’m dead, look into my eyes and find what’s familiar.” She added a period, then looked straight up at me. Her eyes flashed a dull yellow, like a dirty gold with streaks of yellow. Then she wrote. “Amber.” I was confused at this,

“How am I supposed to know what that means?” She shrugged and pointed to my forehead, then pointed to my heart. “What?” I ask, very confused. She just smiled coldly and started walking away. “Wait!” I call. She turns to face me, an annoyed expression on her face. She nodded aggressively as to say ‘make it quick,’ It was unlike my mother when she was alive, but maybe death just aggravates people. “Are you going to visit me for my birthday? I think Jerimoth is going to be…” my sentence faded, seeing how she was very suddenly grinning at me. She was smirking like she knew something I didn’t, something mischievous. It was the oddest thing, her demeanor changed in a rather psychotic-ly short moment. It made me curious as to what really happens when you die. Then, before anything I could say anything about her mysteriousness, she walked away into the forest. Perplexed, I thought a bit, “Amber,” I whispered to myself. What could it mean? A color, resin? Supposedly, it’s familiar to me, but nothing is coming to mind. Her eyes were changing color, black to amber… it’s probably eye color then. “Who has Amber eyes?” I whisper, feeling at a loss because grey eyes are most common among the Sicurodom. My mother used to say that I was the most colorful person she knew, with my brown eyes and blue skin. 

That's when I realize I'm late for my lesson and start sprinting off of the pathway, forgetting my question for another time. In the woods on the other side of the creek, there's a door covered in moss. It has little engravings of flowers in twisting vines with mint-like leaves poking out of every turn. It’s basically the insignia for the Sicurodom, except it’s random around the kingdom, never the same. It’s pretty much the only thing I really like about the place so far. It’s the pattern on my knife too. Finally, I see the creek reflecting the moonlight like mother’s hair. With grace, I jump over the creek being careful not to land in mud. Pleased with my landing, I laughed victoriously at the mud. "Not this time." I murmured playfully. Then I spot a door attached to a natural stone, mud barrier. This wall is to protect the Sicurodom from any outsiders who might be contagious with their mutations, but I’ve already concluded that that’s absurd and Gul knows it. This wall is a hollow mountain, and inside, a crystal cave that uses moonlight, not the other radiation, to light up the crystals and help them reflect to the ground. Atleast, that’s what I’ve heard… Anyway, the people were cold and afraid, afraid of what might happen if they stay out for too long and have their bones reshape, maybe growing another arm. Maybe loosing a lung. Maybe loosing a brain… They were defenceless against the cold in the winter time, and this was way before Jerimoth. When they found this cave they, rushed in like the river inside. Yes, there was a flowing river, and light. It was perfect. 

Now I am standing where my ancestors entered the sicurodom and made this place their home. Still, nobody uses this door but me. It leads to the last hall in the castle where me and Gul have our regular lessons. With both hands, I shove open the door. Inside there was an empty hallway illuminated by clear crystal chandeliers that glowed with the power of the moon. Other than that, there was a pipe where I warm up with pull-ups, and a few marble, bead decorated pillars I occasionally bump into, and a table where I'd throw my knife. My knife with the floral blade that I've had since I was fourteen and was used in many training sessions. I think most people miss the flower filled forests, the dazzling moon, and the mud beneath their toes. But even then, if they leave the kingdom, going back inside would be nearly impossible. The door I went through isn't the only door. If you were to follow the path past my house, the direction Ragazza was going when she ran away, you'd run into a much bigger door with the same pattern, bigger in grandeur. Gul informed me that it was the wrong door, well he didn't really tell me all this stuff, he told me through written messages by past kings. He doesn't really talk to me. Another reason why I’ve learned to read two languages, some don’t speak English at all.

The processes of learning my languages have always coincided, with my mother teaching me how to read from her plethora of cardboard books and dictionaries, and my father teaching me indirectly how to actually say them. Science and books, one through twelve and over, were more than half the stacks, pages ripped out and words blackened on some pages, especially books entitled “biology.” Others were Sicurodom books about thieves and old autobiographies and tales of people living on the outside of the wall when the Sicurodom didn’t exist.

The sicurodom think of themselves as peaceful people, people who don’t go into war, riot, or break their own rules. Honestly, that last one is a straight up lie. It’s a rule that Sicurodom people aren’t allowed into the moon at night in risk of infection, so stupidly the door isn't guarded at night because of the rule that everyone has to sleep. People escape through the gates at night every year… But I don’t get to meet them… I only find their dead bodies off the road. Why did they move the entrance? Well, it was too close to the exit. The exit to this world. It would also be impossible to go back anyway because they'd be missing a life after Jerimoth is through with them. My mind goes to Jerimoth.

If the singing is successful, then Jerimoth will come back as himself. What would I say? Hi? I missed you? I don't think there's a word to match this feeling of ‘We are strangers, but now I hope we can be brothers again?' Before I could think about it anymore, the gigantic hall doors opened and a hulking figure walked in. I could recognize that red velvet cape anywhere. It was Gul, my trainer, the closest thing I had to a friend. Well, he was my only friend until Ragazza came. I sighed, thinking about the terror in her eyes when I feigned insanity and threatened to end her life. I swear, that must’ve been one of the worst moments of my life. I promise myself, ‘I’ll never threaten her like that ever again. Never… again.’ Gul, by my estimate, must weigh 300 pounds, but despite this, he is very agile on his feet. His eyes were grey, like Jerimoth and my father, but not like my mother who has black eyes. It makes sense since she’s from earth that she wouldn’t have grey eyes, but why me? Why don’t I have grey eyes? Anyway, Gul is skilled with a spear, since he thinks it's the most humbling, simplistic weapon of them all. I prefer a lighter, shinier weapon. A knife. I like the knife because it really reflects who I am, literally. It’s just so… easy. Gul is heavier, so he prefers a heavier weapon, I guess. He looks me straight in the eyes, menacingly. Then he looks down at my empty pocket, scowling. "Knife" he grumbled, narrowing his eyes. Speaking of which.

"I lost it." I said, not daring to say much. I'd rather him think I was a clumsy fool and dropped it then him thinking I had disobeyed him and used it against my brother. He looked unamused.

"Aidan, you're lying." He said, stroking his black beard. Ashamed, I looked down at the crack in the floor, the shadows roaring. He sighed and tied his hair back into a ponytail so it wouldn't block his view. He grabbed a silver, floral throwing knife. "Catch." He grunted. He lifted his left arm with the knife and aimed it at my throat. At the last second, he changed direction and threw it at the chandelier, causing it to bounce back towards me. Before the knife landed a fatal blow for anyone but me, I backed up and caught it in my two fingers inches from the ground. 'Phew, that was close' I thought to myself. But before I could think anything else, Gul raised his spear to my heart. Slowly I rose up to meet his cold, dead eyes. "Warm up." He commanded. An immature part of me thought, pun intended, although I seriously doubt he meant it that way. Silently and without hesitation, I walked up to the lone steel pipe and started doing my warm up pull-ups. After two pull-ups, I stopped because I didn't want to over exert myself and mainly because I really hate pull-ups. I think, maybe someday I’ll have more motivation. After running a few laps around the inside perimeter of the hall, I was warmed up. That's when I realized there was no crate of food waiting for me, like there always was. "Um, sir?" I ask hesitantly. He narrowed his eyes, silent. Then he nodded as to say 'continue'. "Where... is the food." He kept the same surly expression.

"Work for it." He commanded. "As always..." He grumbled. I understood what he was saying. He meant if I worked hard and long enough, I'd get my week's worth of food... I guess it’s fair.

My lesson is usually about one hour and thirty minutes. The amount of work per hour and a half equals one week of food for one person. He does this on particularly bad days. Wait, does this mean I have to work twice as hard and long for Jerimoth? I mean, I'll be able to share half of my crate with Ragazza since she's leaving tomorrow and I don’t eat much, but Jerimoth! He was a whole other problem.

"Gul?" I ask cautiously. He turned to look at me, disgruntled. I tried to be as innocent and weary sounding as possible, but I guess it didn't work. I avert my gaze to the floor and hunch my back like a ferret. They’ve been my favorite animal lately. Then I dare to mention Jerimoth. "I'm going to have to work twice as long today because... I have all I need to bring Jerimoth back." I confess. He looked utterly stunned and a bit confused. 

"But that's impossible." He barked. "Unless," he paused. "YOU AREN'T MESSING WITH ME, RIGHT?! YOU’D BETTER NOT OR I’LL-" He yells at me the longest sentence I’ve ever heard him say.

"N-No sir. I'm being serious." I shivered, afraid of the immense volume he was able to achieve.

He paused, frowning at me.Then, for the first time I saw true emotion in his face. He was... happy. He smiled a bright and joyful smile of someone who had just received the greatest gift. I was so stunned by this I walked back into a pillar and hit my head. There was a scream and a ringing In my ear but it quickly died, leaving nothing but chuckles to fill the air. Gul was.. laughing? Confused, I didn't join his laugh… or rather I didn’t enjoy it as much as Ragazza’s. "I swear," he chuckled. "Girls just fall right out of the sky for you Shapas." His laughing intensified. These were the longest sentences anyone has heard him say. I was confused until I remembered telling him the only way to save Jerimoth. I told him Jerimoth always wondered what female vocals would sound like and maybe if we sang his favorite song, he'd return to normal. That’s a stretch, though. 

"Oh, s-sir, I'm s-o-sorry- '' I stuttered. Then I was interrupted.

"You know what! Screw Todd! I'm going to tell you about all of it, whether he'd like it or not," He spoke. "Look, I'll give you three crates of food and a few old tapes of your mother and father, but you have to practice at home, get ready for your final test, carefully study these tapes, and try not to die." He commanded. Grateful, I bowed and thanked him. I laughed, absolutely overjoyed that I don't have to spend three hours practicing my aim and technique. "Also, you have to come back sometime and let me tell you all the things your father never wanted me to," He instructed. 

"Thank you!" I tell him without another word, especially one of questions. He grabs three crates of bread, apples, and other food items with care. He hands them to me and I stumble back, surprised by the weight and height of them. 

"Now before you go," he said in all seriousness. "If she hurts anyone, I'll be forced to kill her," I could hear the roughness in his voice. The levity has disappeared and now there is only silence. "It's my duty as protector of my people to ensure that no harm is to come to them. Now go," He yelled. I backed away with a lump in my throat. The lesson definitely was... interesting today. I'll have to tell Ragazza. It's kinda unfair and I think Gul knows it. Why should we be able to harm nothing but other “contagious” humans who are just trying to get home. Ragazza wasn't the first person to fall. My mother was, but after then people would burn up from the light or fall to their death. One specific one was a blue eyed man with blonde hair. I could see his ribs actually poking out of his body… and there was a diamond ring laying on the ground and an empty felt case in his pocket. It made me think, ‘what brought him down here?’ For Ragazza, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. And I thank the three moons with all of my heart that I was there. But it made me wonder, ‘what brought her here?’

Speaking of which, “Hey Gul…” my voice echoed around the chamber. He nodded. “Will you let Raga-, I mean, the earth human, shortcut here?” I asked, not sure of what I wanted him to respond with. I almost added ‘for me,’ but that wouldn’t help.

“You know I can’t. She must go around. No one can know of this entrance. If she stays here and passes the news, I’d be forced to end all of the people she told, including herself. Even if she promises she wouldn’t, that doesn’t change the fact that it's forbidden, you understand?” I nodded solemnly. “Good,” then he turned away.

I struggle to open the door with my hands so I kick it out of the way then I kick it back once I'm out. I told Ragazza it would be an hour and thirty minutes and it's only been about twenty five according to the moon. Ragazza. I look at the moon, mesmerized by its beauty. It reminds me of Ragazza's laugh. I can't fully describe it but the moon makes me feel the same. Maybe, mystical? They have both been gifted with an amazing ability. Ragazza with her laugh, and the moon with similar glow. I have to say, Spending most of my night thinking has really benefited my sanity. It's surprising how much thinking and consequently learning you can get done when you have the power to instantly rejuvenate yourself through your fire powers and spend hours on end with an energized mind. Anyway, I've been thinking about her and how different her life must be from mine. It’s fun imagining their world. I haven’t only been thinking about that though. Of course, I’ve been thinking about Jerimoth… and tonight I’ll think about tomorrow… Then, look at the lavender moon and remember the soft light mother’s amber eyes were reflecting. Ragazza, the eyes. I connect two and two together and then I realize 'Ragazza's eyes might be amber.' I speed walk back, lucky I didn't run into Jerimoth. 

I finally made it to the path. I went at an angle so I should be near the house. In fact, I see it right now in all of its broken, worn down glory. I put down the crates, open the door, then carry the crates inside. Ragazza was laying there, asleep. Curious to see if her eyes were truly the eyes I saw In my message, I set my hand on fire and held it in front of Ragazza's face, illuminating her features. She wearily opened her eyes and looked up at me. Sure enough, her eyes were amber… and enchanting as well. They have color, by color I mean life, that grey eyes just don’t. Honestly, for how many times I’ve seen grey eyes, I’d rather do just as many pull-ups. But maybe not. 

"Huh?" She asks, partially awake. I put out the flame in my hand with one simple wave and shushed her. I can't say I'm not embarrassed for not noticing her eyes before. 

"Shhh... it's ok. Go back to sleep. I’m sorry." I apologize to her. She slowly closes her eyes again and returns to unconsciousness. I smiled. It's interesting how she curls up into a ball as she sleeps, maybe she's just cold. Careful as not to make a flame, I warm the air around her and under the blanket. I walk back to my room with all these thoughts and emotions that are starting to form. It's a struggle, but I manage to finally get some real sleep. The few questions I asked before I fell asleep were 'will Ragazza be ok? Will the song work? What was Ragazza doing in the vision I had?.' These questions will be answered tomorrow I'm sure of it.


	9. Inexplicable Sadness

September 16th, 2010. Thursday at 5:00 A.M.

Aidan: He woke up early under the faint glow of the sun shielded by a morning mist coat. The sun was just barely peeking through the dense thicket of trees. He was feeling a lack of energy caused by sorrow. What triggered this sorrow was a mystery, maybe it's the thought of seeing Jerimoth in his human form again. It might be something to do with Ragazza. Whatever it was, it was preventing him from using his powers. There would only be the mere flicker of a the flame, then it would shrink and disappear, leaving only smoke. This is not a good day to be upset because that could mean the difference between life and death if the moment came. Life or death for anyone.

My surroundings were clear. Everything was, only for a moment, still. The first word to come to mind was lifeless. The desk's drawers creeking every time it opened and slammed shut. The shadows did this to toy with me. The mirror was abnormally clear. Every once in a while a shard of glass would fall and sometimes shatter. I made it my duty keep this mirror alive because I didn't want it to end up like the rest of us. Missing pieces of ourselves. I released my hands from the silken cover dungeon and propped myself up. To my surprise, molten tears were streaming down my face. It was the only light in the room other than the little sunlight coming through the curtained windows. Unusual. I haven't cried in...how many years? I could feel the burn of each tear tearing at my face. Not only was it tearing there, but it was also ripping everything inside. I am living an empty and solitary lifestyle and breathing the smoke created by my own ability, I guess there's not much left to tear. 

But then there was yesterday. Yesterday there was laughter, enjoyable conversations, music! A cover collaboration between two friends and a musical genius. I had more fun than I thought possible. It's crazy how much enjoyment I get out of spending time with another human being. The possibility that it might just be Ragazza's company never crossed my mind.

The tears were getting dangerously close to the flammable sheets so I did the only thing I could. I didn't want to risk burning myself more than I already was. I wiped the tears from my face with my fingers and It stung my pointer finger like a wasp. The only area immune to extreme heat in desperate times is my tongue. My entire body, when upset, becomes kind of sensitive to extreme heat but my tongue is always fine. Yes, I do have molten tears but my saliva is that of a human. I licked the tears off of my fingers. The sooner the better. The last thing I wanted was to pick hard rock off of my burned face and hands. The thought of every little mark the lava would've left after I had picked them off made me shiver. It wouldn't have helped my current weakness to the cold. I groaned, I wasn't used to being this cold. I swallowed the salty tears that trickled down my throat like a knife ripping a curtain. I should know. The pain was bearable, but it still hurt to breathe which was kind of irritating because I already had this agonizing emptiness in my chest. Something was missing. Not a physical thing, but something deep inside myself.

Then randomly, the shadows started whispering "tapes, tapes, tapes," and other words like that, but I could just barely hear those unknown words through loud murmurs of men and women. It's funny how they understand things I don't. I've always imagined that they had a life before me. That they were people who have come to help me or enjoy my suffering. They're like dark and light pieces of my mind. But I don't think my mind could hide anything from me like these shadows can. Maybe they could see the future and inhabit my eventful brain for entertainment. Yes, it is true. My life is like no other that I know. Of course, I’m not familiar with a lot of them.

Finally my eyes have adjusted to the darkness and I've gotten used to the screaming in my ear. The emptiness, though, was so overwhelming I could no longer ignore it. Still, I had to prepare myself for the day to come. The stressful day to come. I swung my legs off of the groaning mattress. It should groan, it's been through so much more than I have. I was about to stand up when the emptiness suddenly grew and seemed to spread to my brain. What's the point of getting up? Getting Jerimoth back will take so much more than just a song and a random girl who can sing. Actually I wouldn't be surprised if I had to sing. One thing I never want Ragazza to know is that I have an extremely shameful voice. It's beautiful, that's what makes it shameful. I used to hum my brother's songs during practice. Gul would always punish me with extra strenuous exercises for the annoyance. I don’t know why I’m ashamed exactly… I just am. 

My father allowed us to sing which was, before I knew the manner, the only joy in my life. Now I cannot think of something that brings me joy. Not right now. I force myself up and walk to the bathroom door. There is another bathroom by the staircase but this one is closer. I carelessly opened the door and was startled by my reflection in the second mirror. I looked like a zombie, tired and gloomy. Whatever, if things go wrong I'll probably be dead anyway. But if things go really wrong I'll be the only one left alive. I push the thought out of my mind.

..........................................................................................................

After a quick shower, I realized I couldn't dry myself the easy way with fire. But hey, thank the stars I didn't forget how to use a towel. I used to just set my entire body on fire and be dry in seconds, and I don’t disintegrate my hair. Sometimes it’ll be a little shorter though. Controlled fire powers is an exercise of the brain. It used to be strenuous and near impossible as a toddler, creating sweat from the sweat glands each time the fire got too close or my concentration was beyond unhealthy. What requires such focus is the precision you need not to burn off skin or hair. I used to practice on tree bark or pine needles, trying my hardest not to incinerate them. Since I’ve mastered precision, I’ve since then dried myself with fire instead of a towel. I’ve only messed up once… The towel was rather inefficient, It just wouldn't dry my hair and water droplets would trickle down my neck and stick to my clothing like sap. My clothes now felt just as miserable as I was. 

Towel around my neck, I approached the broken mirror in my room. Carefully, I put the shattered pieces of glass back into place. Looking into the fragmented mirror, my mouth curved into a forced smile. Gul hates it when I show obvious emotion. For example, when I narrow my eyes or sigh heavily. He's got more than enough things to worry about. He doesn't have the time to worry about some kid's mental state. Gul doesn’t like smiles either, so you have to just be expressionless. I understand why he thinks like this, it just irritates him… and I don't want to irritate Ragazza with my common feelings either. Besides, I haven't really figured them out yet and what's the point in sharing my feelings with her since she's going to leave tomorrow. I'll never see her again. To her I'll be nothing but a forgotten memory. I wish I could forget me too. Then maybe I'd forget I ever knew her and forget I was ever this abhorrent. And Jerimoth... imagine if he had killed me just before he returned to normal. What would they do without me? Jerimoth would probably show Ragazza the door I use to go to my practice and everything would be ok, but not, because then Jerimoth would have to convince Gul, and as you can guess, that’s not very easy. 

Jerimoth was abnormally smart for his age and after two years in the forest he's probably very resourceful. They'd be just fine without me. Dang, I wish I could experience the relief of that burden too... I tiptoed to the bedroom door and peaked out. Ragazza was still fast asleep curled towards the couch cushion. I desperately tried to dry my hair with the towel, but it was no use. I was just going to have to deal with it. I looked around the house from the room. Every scratch, tear, and shadowy figure looked ominous in the light of the morning sun. The furniture in the room looked like dead bodies, idle and lifeless, then there was Ragazza. She was a lot more vibrant in color. Her skin, much rosier than Jerimoths, glowed as the light rained down on her like a heavy storm. She looked peaceful, almost joyful. I could only see half of her face, the other half buried in the cushion. She looks like a small vulnerable animal. I've only seen a ferret once in my life. it was dead. Jerimoth found it before I had. Ragazza was curled like the ferret did when it died, but much less rotting and a lot more.. well, adorable.

I've been thinking about the moment I met Ragazza and I'm actually really happy that I was there to help her. Who knows what could've happened if I never showed up that day to rescue her, although that makes me sound more like a hero than I deserve to be. She repositioned herself to face the stairs, eyes still closed. I was so focused on her movement, I didn't realize that my head was on fire. No joke, it was literally on fire and I didn’t notice. I noticed that the room got lighter but I didn't think anything of it, until Ragazza turned and covered her face with the thick blanket, shielding her eyes. That is when I had the horrific realization that my head was on fire. The flame slowly died, creating a small amount of smoke. What? Why are my powers working now!? I tried to set my hand on fire with a simple shake, but nothing happened. I silently raged as I failed to do something that was once so simple. I stopped trying and combed my hair with my fingers in frustration. To my great surprise my hair was dry. 

Careful not to make any noise, I crept down the stairs and into the living room. I looked hopefully at Ragazza again. She still hid in her cocoon, fresh and ready when the sun came. I toss and turn in my sleep, but she stays completely still other than the subtle movement of her chest as she breathes. I grabbed the crate of tapes and silently opened the door that creaked as I slowly opened it. When I was outside my hand slipped and I slammed the door closed. I cringed, hoping I didn't wake Ragazza from her peaceful sleep. 

My boots made a tapping sound on the wooden porch which, to me, was a always soothing noise. I walked up to the bunker. Us Shapas would call this the Mad house. Even after my father died I still call it that just to keep the memories of how he threw and dropped glass beakers from time to time. Apparently, science can be frustrating. It looked like a small outhouse or shed but inside was a staircase leading down to my father's work area and where all the books and scientific documentaries are kept. My father always experimented there. I’ve only been there a couple times. This is where I'll be watching the tapes. The television, which was older than me like everything else in this house, only worked fifty percent of the time. Before, I wasn't allowed to use it, but now that I have the freedom, I can. I still feel discouraged to go down there. Sometimes when I'd want to go down there I'd stand at the entrance, hand on the knob, and I'd start feeling queasy and I'd hear even more screaming in my head. It's like what happened yesterday... except I'd usually vomit shortly after. I tentatively placed my hand onto the knob and... nothing. Not even the wind was present at that moment. I twisted the knob, opened the door, then slammed the door behind me. I was freaked out by the stillness and my mind somehow connected it to Jerimoth. 

One of the tapes fell out and bounced down the steps. I decided that I would watch that one first because it seemed to be screaming for my attention. The room looked just as cracked and stained since the last time I had seen it. On top of the ugly, brown carpet was a nice deep red couch in front of the old television set. It was placed on a small chest full of the documentaries I had remembered only a few minutes ago. Then there were a few tables pressed against the walls covered in scratches and burns and even what appears to be blood stains. This is where my father would experiment and study things that he had brought home. I placed the crate on one of these tables and bent down to pick up the tape. On the tape there was some writing. It read:

"Document fifteen"

I turned on the old tv and inserted the tape. The tv took in a big mechanical breath and an image started to appear. There was a beautiful, Brown haired girl who I barely recognized as my mother. It was her but different, younger. Her eyes were a light brown and her skin was olive with black freckles. But I hadn't noticed the biggest change until she started speaking.

"What are you doing?" She laughed.

I gasped and almost fell off of the couch somehow. My mother had a voice? What happened to her? I was so shocked I completely ignored what my father was saying. They looked to be young, but years older than me. I couldn't breathe. I heard my mother start to laugh. Her laughter was sharp and intense like mine which was nowhere near as beautiful as my friend Ragazzas. How did I call her friend so casually? Like it wasn’t the most exciting change my life has experienced so far? The screen turned to black and automatically ejected the tape. It was over. Maybe the next tape will tell me more about this... ah. I find a tape with the label: 

"Document eighteen: goodbye."

I insert the tape gently. The television roars and I can see my father placing the camera. My mother giggles as he places the camera down on a nearby stump. Now they are facing each other beside the great dirt barrier that separates the kingdom from the forest. This time, it's my father's voice that I hear. 

"Here we are. You remember what I've told you, Right?" He asks.

"Of course. Don't you worry, I'll be fine. We'll meet up at castle and you can come with me," She reassured him. Clearly, that plan hadn’t worked out seeing as I’m not on earth.

"Yes, and here's the money for food," he hands her a few gold coins. That reminds me, I should probably give Ragazza some money too. I never use it anyway so why not. His hand lingered on her's for a while until he pulled back. "I'm really going to miss you." He tells her.

"I'll miss you, too," She replies and grabs both of his hands."Are you sure I should go right now?"

"Yes! Of course! But not until I give you the official Sicurodom farewell." He says softly.

"What's the, tehehe, official farewell?" She giggled. My father raised one of her hands to his face. Unexpectedly, he pressed his lips to the delicate skin of her hand. I watched closely as my mother's face turned red and she started giggling once more. I had no clue as to what was going on, but I guessed it was something a part of friendship. "Well, I'll be waiting for you at the castle and when you come I'll greet you with the official earthling greeting." Her gaze softened. She let go of his hands and entered the kingdom. My father sighed woefully, picked up the camera and turned it off.

..........................................................................................................

After watching all of the tapes now I think I understand. My mother, for some reason, was banned from the kingdom or was to be sentenced to death but my father convinced Gul to let him take her instead. The other tapes were out of order, I assumed. Some way before these tapes, and some soon after. There were more tapes of them talking and such, Before the tape where she leaves. One was my father talking alone to the camera about her, and the last I watched, the last in time I believed, was some sort of ceremony I didn’t understand. I heard the word “love” again and again, but I never got the definition from the word around it. It wouldn’t drill into my brain. I pull my journal from my pocket and flip to one of the last pages. Soon this book will be full of all my lifeless, disturbing thoughts and all the days since Jerimoth left. I start writing vigorously, powered by my new knowledge.

"September 16th. Year 15. 

“ The shadows were whispering the answers to me. When my father and mother were under the altar pressing their faces together they whispered ' regret, pain, journey, messy, mistake' and one that made me shiver unexpectedly 'love'. They know. I don't get the word. My mother used to speak but I have not found the event that caused her to become mute. I have all these new words bouncing around in my brain. When Gul had given me these tapes, I wasn't expecting to find this. I must go back and learn more. I wonder if Ragazza's up. This may be the last day I see her or even write in this book. I'm starting to feel more and more doubtful about our plan but it must work. It has to. Jerimoth is intelligent, his middle name literally meaning so. He can help me figure this out. But why did Gul want me to learn these things? To me they kinda seem a little... unnecessary. Love seems unnecessary unless it’s what I need to know to become a soldier. Whatever, that's not my main concern. The main question is why my mother had lost her voice. This must be why he had shown me this. The people in the video don't act or even look like my parents, but they are. Wish me luck. "


	10. If at first you don’t succeed

Disclaimer: The word scoraggiato is used too often in this chapter, it is pronounced : (Score-ih- sh-awt-oh) 

Aidan: This world seems almost too silent today. When Aidan climbed up the stairs and out of the shed, he was blasted with cold air. To him, things seemed to have gotten significantly colder. Not only that, but his shadows were whispering among themselves conspiratorially. The trees looked ominously misshapen and burned to resemble the endlessly dark nights. As Aidan learned, When the shadows were active... anything could happen. Aidan has the ability to hear and sometimes see them, although it's not much of an “ability” and more like a miscommunication or a deceit. His “father” had the intention of being seen, to be visible by the typical human eye. That's why Aidan thought Ragazza could see him, when in reality it wasn’t as it seemed. Aidan doesn’t know how, but he certainly thinks that bear is his father in the afterlife. Shadows. What if nothing was real. She can't see them watching through the trees or hear them screaming her name, possibly because they weren’t there to torment her. Surely, something interesting is going to happen today, because today, the shadows were awfully... quiet to him.

I was so deep in thought I actually ran into the door at the top of the stairs. The pain shot through my head like an arrow. Instinctively, I clutched the sides of my head expecting screaming followed by agonizingly slow scratching. But nothing. I'd come to the pathetic conclusion that I had just walked into the door and had misinterpreted the situation. Jerimoth used to do the same thing. He was a boy of many confusing and complex thoughts about reality and the origin, plus the twisted science of our powers. Yet, he'd get so tangled in thought, he'd forget to look and would often hurt himself. I, my sworn duty as a gifted older brother, healed him with the help of a song or just discussed whatever science I knew so he could correct me. Me and Jeri had only ever made three songs, all sung by him of course. Other than singing and talking endlessly about science while I stare into the distance, listening but not taking in what Jerimoth was saying, we'd play in the forest. Games like Hide and seek, chase, and the ever popular races. All fun games we’d spend hours from noon to dawn, although Jerimoth never got much exercise with his cheating. He used to teleport to the finish line. The one thing I acknowledge, I am decently athletic, and I don’t even get to experience it. I mean, I don’t care much about losing, it’s just I never won. 

I jumped as I heard a violent thunk on the other side of the door. The dull pain in my head worsened and everything was fuzzy. There was another, sharper sound followed by a flash of silver light flying across the dark grey background. When my vision cleared, I saw my hand tightly clutching the handle of the knife, shaking as if all life had just been threatened. I yanked my knife out of the wall and vacantly stared ahead. What if Jerimoth is outside? What if he's just waiting for me to carelessly walk out the door, all vulnerable and unaware, so he could come out from behind the bushes and pounce onto me. My imagination ran wild and I could clearly see him gnawing my hands and ripping my arms from my body, jaws locked onto my neck. I wonder if he'd feel any sort of remorse seeing my hollow, lifeless eyes. Knowing him, probably not. In fact, he'd enjoy every second of it. Honestly, right now it feels like I don’t have much to lose, so I wouldn’t cry over it either. Ragazza though… It sounds like she has an entire family to lose. 

I swung open the door and quickly checked the sides of the workshop. Nothing. I heard the thud again and spun around so fast I actually got dizzy, even more dizzy. I came to the humiliating conclusion that it was only a branch swaying in the wind. Of course it was. Jerimoth is a scoraggiato, he would never have let me know he was there. Although, he does give a nasty, earthquake-like growl milliseconds before he attacks. That's what's kept me alive all this time. Keeping it in mind, I tiptoed up the porch stairs, stopping every step to look around. After a painfully long 10 steps, I had finally reached the front door. I was close to turning the knob when I felt a blast of cold air from behind me. I spun around, maybe he had waited until... Once again, It was nothing. For a concerning instant, I felt disappointed. Such a horrifying feeling, feeling disappointed to not be staring in the face of death. 

I turned the doorknob solemnly because I knew he wasn't coming. Something inside was telling me 'not yet. Wait for him to come.' But nothing ever happened and nothing ever will. Dispirited, I turned the doorknob to our home and sluggishly dragged myself inside. I shut the door with a heavy sigh. Where the heck is he? I remembered the days as a 13 year old boy when I'd see that hound every minute of every day. Now, it seems, he is losing interest in me. My heart sank low in my chest. Maybe he's just busy, whatever a scoraggiato could be busy with. I turned to see Ragazza still laying on the couch, eyes wide open like a newborn baby first experiencing the world. There was no emotion on her face. She just stared, keeping her thoughts inside. We both expected one another to speak so we just stared, quietly. Finally, Ragazza took a breath in, preparing to break the silence.

"Dang, have you been outside that long?" She laughed softly, a little nervousness in her tone. I could tell she hoped she was wrong. I kept gazing at her unresponsively, for some reason I was shocked to see her, like a ghost floating through the walls. She didn't seem like the person she was. I saw her as a threat, someone who I could no longer trust. After I didn't answer she suddenly became just as tense as I was. "Are you," she blinked. "Alright?" She looked concerned, but mostly alarmed.

"I'm... fine. I was just taking a walk,"I mumbled. She smiled at me with her heart-lifting smile then stretched up into the air. I watched defensively. I had no idea what brought up these feelings. Maybe I was just on edge since today was, unfortunately, today. I dared to look away, anywhere only for a second, so I chose the ground. Panicking for no apparent reason. I was full of unreasonable emotions I had never dealt with until this morning. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to fall down on the floor and shred it to mere splinters just to take my mind off her. I was a complete wreck. 

Ragazza threw the blanket off of her and slid off of the disgustingly colored couch. She started stretching again. "You should've taken me with you. I'm really stiff," she groaned. I suddenly felt a wave of guilt for lying, guilty when the lie was spat from her mouth like a contagious cough. It was silent as she slipped on both of her black, leather boots. "So," Ragazza started. "Today's the day, aren't you excited? You're going to finally see your brother again!" She nearly squealed. 

I scowled belligerently at her optimism "The outcome is obvious. Don’t you get it? This will surely go only one way" I emphasize my words, a thing I often do when I'm feeling this stressed. It's the thrusting of a knife in the form of aggravated, yet casual speech. Ragazza raised one eyebrow quizzically, perplexed by my sudden burst. From anger, there is sown a seed of sadness, one that hadn’t hesitated to breach. "It's hopeless. This is never going to work," I state. She looks at me for a long while, studying my face. We just stood in the eerie shadows of silence, too aware of each other’s presence to feel completely at ease. Just silence, knowing she was thinking about ways to get past the delicate situation. Then, she took a step. As she started walking towards me, I turned my head away in shame, too embarrassed to look at the judgement on her face. The heels made a tapping sound on the hardwood floors soothing me quite a bit, but not enough to wipe the blush from my face. She stopped in front of me. I wouldn't look at her, only her feet. 

She spoke very softly and with great concern. "Now, tell me," she starts. I'm terrified of what she is going to say next. She encourages me to ramble for hours about useless topics purely because she listens. She listens unlike Gul, Jerimoth, my father! Her interest, or pretend interest, reminds me dearly of my loving mother. It's one of the many things that furthers my gratefulness that I was there that Tuesday when she appeared. She sighed. "What’s wrong?" Her voice was like a sharp knife through my stomach. I so desperately wanted to start sobbing, fall on my knees and cover my face, but I held my awkward lean. It would've been mortifying. But still, I needed to release the pain somehow.

"I'm powerless. This whole thing was just a stupid idea, It'll never work," I lower the intensity of my voice to a notch over a whisper. I rub my face with my freezing, useless hands roughly as if it helped to lighten the weight of this situation by massaging it out. Actually, I had noticed I was a little bluer in skin color today. Yes, let's sing a song. That'll bring him back. The whole thing sounded so preposterous, enough to lead Ragazza to believe I was crazy. I'm starting to believe I’m crazy. But even during this, when I looked up through my messy hair, she was smiling at me. At the moment, I felt attacked. As if this problem was somehow humorous, which honestly, being this pathetic, it should've been. But then I looked again, she wasn't smirking, scowling, or grimacing. She was smiling. 

Suddenly, she didn't seem like such a threat at all. The next thing I know, I am trapped in a consoling embrace, delicate and comforting like last time. "It might not work," she said doubtfully. 'Off to a good start' I think wittily to myself. "And if it does, then you'll have something worth the struggle. If it doesn't,” she paused to take a long breath in. “we'll keep trying until he's back. Got it?" She patted my back a little too roughly. I nodded, a little afraid of denying. Now I felt like I had wanted to cry for a different reason. I've never felt such solace. Usually, the only comfort I'd find would be in… nothing I guess… Actually, my mother would comfort me like this. But this feels… better? Maybe it’s because the words are coming directly from her mouth and not from a sheet of paper. Something like this feels genuine. 

"Ragazza..." I spoke wearily.

"Yeah?"

"Are all people as nice as you?" I ask.

She laughs "Trust me, I’m never usually this nice. That’s usually because of homework. There are some really good and bad people out there. So no, not all, but people can be capable of change so it really depends..." Her voice trailed off. Then, though I had never wanted her to let go, she backed away. At that moment I realized how alone I really was, so I was only able to muster a simple understanding nod. 

“Are you hungry?” I asked, feeling my stomach grumble like the grumble of a bear. 

“Yeah,” she responds, so I walk over to the kitchen and toss her another apple. And although I had felt hungry, I couldn’t get myself to eat. 

...

I lifted the rough case of my guitar into the frosty morning air, worried not only for the tuning pegs, strings, and the fragile wood of my guitar, but for our lives. One wrong move, and we could be dead. Actually, I don’t care about ‘we’. No, I care more about them. If I have to sacrifice myself for the benefit of either of them, then so be it. If, by some tragic accident, Jerimoth had fallen into the snow in Ragazza’s act of self defense, would I feel equally sorrowful than if Ragazza had taken the fall? I ponder our broken brotherly relationship and compare it to my energizing friendship with Ragazza. Jerimoth and I were constantly quarreling over extraneous matters unrelated to the bigger issue, but very much inspired by it. It was always the prosecutor, defendant, and jury. I, the falsely accused, Jerimoth, the vicious prosecutor, and my mother, the jury who is very apprehensive to convict her son of any wrongdoing. I am not guilty. Or am I? Deep inside my mind I feel guilty, but only for not being quick enough, physically and mentally, to realize what was happening. Nothing that happened that evening was intentional.

I looked over at Ragazza who looked just as stoic as me, too worn out emotionally to show any nervousness. How cruel of me to burden her with my insolent doubts, to plague her with woes that didn’t even make sense. Didn’t I know that to truly have this success, there would have to be an abundance of opposing positive forces? I could say Ragazza is the key to getting Jerimoth back, but I know that’s actually false. Her, alone, wouldn’t make a difference at all. Deep down, I knew it was mostly me making this work. After all, he is my brother and not her’s. Jerimoth wouldn’t be as thrilled by this stranger as I was when I first met her.

I take a moment to revise the plan over and over again in my head; the strumming patterns, the lyrics, any possible predicaments as if just by thinking about it would bring Jerimoth any closer to his human form. Still, I know that with time he will only steadily start to remember what brought him into that form into the first place and bring us full circle, repeating until the day we all die. Whatever happens here today will certainly be anything but a triumph for either of us, but it just might be a more black and white situation for Ragazza. Life, death, or permanent injuries. Not born into the many colors of this situation. Blessed with the simplicity of it all. ‘I help, I say my farewells, and I leave.’ Simple. I’d imagine. 

She looked back at me. When she caught my gaze, she gave a polite smile and turned away. “It’s awfully cold out here. Isn’t it?” she slurred, clearly trying to make some sort of small talk. I answered with equal temperature. 

“I can’t really feel it,” I murmur. She furrowed her eyebrows, brought her hand up to her face barely and touched her top lip with her curled pointer finger. I assumed she was thinking of ways to continue the conversation. In the end, she chose the most predictable direction.

“You can’t?” she asked. I felt it was the least I could do answer after my sudden outburst. I still felt uncomfortable and a little too abashed to start conversing the way we had yesterday, but it was Ragazza’s intention to bring back the amiability by forcing me into senseless chit-chat and I wasn’t about to deprive her of it. Actually, I’d quite enjoy learning a bit more about her. If I wasn’t so busy droning on about myself just to hear that endearing laugh or to have her eyes fully turned toward me, I would’ve let her rant for hours. Days, if weather like this wasn’t so rare

“I can when I’m feeling like I was this morning, but I‘m usually always just as warm as I need to be. It’s like breathing, you don’t think about it until you have trouble,” I explained. Not a perfect comparison, but it works. My powers are fairly simplistic, such as condensing my flames into wavy ribbons or straight blades that burst out at the very end in lethal flares and the mindless increasing of my internal body temperature, warming myself from the inside out. Jerimoth, on the other hand, has a more complicated ability. He can freeze his hands to an absolutely freezing temperature and attract metal objects just like a magnet, but paces around aimlessly at midnight saying he’s terrified that if he fell asleep, he’d slowly perish in his sleep. More terrifying than being stabbed to death. Painless.

“Oh,” she breathed. “So if your not cold right now, does that mean… I cheered you up earlier?” A devious smile crept across her face like a wildfire spreading across the horizon. I returned her smile with my own grin. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think it possible,” I spoke barely above a whisper. Against what I thought possible, her smile widened to the very limits. She sparked with glorious victory as she should. I felt she deserved some sort of praise, to make her feel as good as I did, so I told her that she was amazing. Of course, I hadn’t been so successful because as soon as I said that, her face turned bright red with utter embarrassment and she quickly turned away. `Really? Look what you’ve done!’ I yelled inside my mind loud enough for my shadows to sense a disturbance. I should’ve known it would make her feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what I was thinking. Most of the time I don’t even know how to converse, how to treat people, but it felt different yesterday. Yesterday I was able, right now, I was acting like I thought my mother would if she had a voice.

“Sorry,” she apologized. What for? “Gary used to say that all the time... That’s all,” I blinked.

“Who?”

“No one important,” she shrugged. Then, she unexpectedly stepped sideways towards me, nudging me with her shoulder. Either she’s getting increasingly colder, or I’m on the verge of bursting into flames. I step back, almost certain it’s the second. I gaze at her in surprise. “Oh,” she gasped, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry! You’re just though since you were warm- I didn’t mean to scare you,” she spoke, her soft breath clearly visible in the frosty morning air. I look at her clothes. She’s wearing light, breathable clothing covered with an unsatisfyingly chilly leather jacket that doesn’t even reach the wrists. Her soles were already slightly torn from her matching leather boots and they were quite loose at the top, causing air to stream in from above. All this combined might’ve made a nice outfit where she’s from, but here it was almost like wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals to a frozen lake.

“No, if you’re really cold, I guess you can lean on me if that makes you feel comfortable,” I say reluctantly. As soon as she processes my sentence, with no hesitation, she grabs onto my arm and pulls it close to her body. Absorbing as many ounces of heat as she can. It took everything in me not to burst into a furious inferno the moment she touched my arm, causing it to go limp. My entire face is a royal purple and bullets of sweat fall from my fingertips like drops from a melting icicle. Alas, when I started to feel at ease with this, I was already at a burning temperature, so she let go. All at once, I felt like the world had robbed me and left a painful sting in my side as a lingering reminder that she will leave eventually. My only friend. A reminder that sooner or later I’ll start to revert back to my old ways, and then what? Isn’t this just mirroring what’s happening right now? I’ll get used to having her around, hearing that angelic laugh every hour of every day, having infinite comfort in our conversations, then the time will come when we will part ways, leaving me with a bittersweet ending. Isn’t that what’s happening? Why does it kill me to imagine it? 

I suspect it’ll snow soon which could ruin our entire attempt, so I suggest that we start soon. I step onto the porch and shortly after, Ragazza follows. With care, I place my guitar case down on the dry wood and snap open the latches. I lifted the chipped acoustic guitar with much caution, heaving the flower engraved strap over my untidy hair. 

Just for the heck of it, I gave it a mighty strum sending out sound waves of chaotic dissonance bouncing off of the tough bark of the trees and through the shadowy, sinister emptiness of the unutilized space between stumps. A complacent grin slowly rose upon my face, simply hearing the resounding of the strings grazed by my fingers, harmonious or not, left me with no feeling other than satisfaction. But slowly the contentment was corroded by, once again, the knowledge that certain devastation could well be around the corner. I sigh, pulling out my wooden guitar pick, decorated with tear shaped holes in a spiral to resemble a common flower, and start nonchalantly tuning. 

“Woah, I’ve never seen or even heard of a wooden pick before! What type of wood is it?” She asked, shattering the tranquility of the light guitar playing and the subtle shaking of the leaves. Either that or she just added to it. 

“What do you mean? As far as I know, wooden picks are the only picks,” I responded, then added, “Oh, and I have no idea.” I say while twirling the pick in my hand, studying the intricate wavy lines of the wood. Ragazza just laughed.

“I can’t imagine how differently you see the world.” she chuckled. I glanced at her, seeing her grinning while being backlit by the random streams of sunlight weaving through the foliage. Her eyelashes tentatively touching the light like defiant, loose strands of hair waving in the breeze. She smiled and somehow the world around her illuminated as if she were some sort of star, shining brilliantly in a chilly, vast abyss, shivering from the cold in a cluster of feathers. She makes the already menacing forest look darker, she makes the junkyard of a house I live in look darker, she makes all of me look darker in her luminescence. Glowing from her leather boots to her slightly frizzled hair. The cream color of her shirt casually complimenting the radiant orange streaks in her amber eyes. If seeing the world differently meant missing out on this, then I’d rather view the world in no other way. The next thing I know, I was done tuning. 

…

The first chord rang out with grandeur, rippling through the atmosphere, reaching impressive expanses. I hoped that it was grand enough to reach the far ends of the woods and long enough to create an echo off of the stone barrier, but that wasn’t realistic. I just kept playing, wanting him to hear for his own sake. The pattern was simple and effective, but because of earlier, when Ragazza held my arm, I was a little thrown off balance meaning my sense of rhythm was off and my knowledge of when to switch chords was solely based on instinct, not on straight memory. When she started singing, it all started to form together to create a heavenly melancholy tune. Her voice was a little too soft so I lifted my head, stretched my neck upward to hint that she needed to raise the volume of her voice. She nodded and obliged. It wasn’t much louder, but it would do. 

The first verse was powerful, meaning it evoked intense negative emotions, Jerimoth’s fortè. But despite all of these rather depressing chords and the enchanting melody, it was not enough to lure Jerimoth out of the thickets. Eventually, a chorus went by, then another verse, then the rest of the song- The last note swerving through the copse like a fierce deluge. 

“What now?” Ragazza spoke over her shoulder. I had a simple solution, well, not really a solution. It was merely part of my plan all along, knowing that Jerimoth would be all too astute to arrogantly bound from the woods without assessing the situation beforehand. Until then, all we have to do is ceaselessly repeat the song until my pick is nothing but a warm splinter. Ragazza stared expectantly, waiting for an answer. 

“We play it again,” I say casually. It seemed to perturb her slightly that by time, the plan increases in perilousness. As if the longer we wait, the more time Jerimoth has to conspire a fail-proof scheme; and it was true. ‘Alright’ was all she could bare to say. Like a metronome, I tapped my foot to count off, though it didn’t actually matter. I start mechanically strumming the tedious chords until eventually I get to the fun part. The part in every one of Jerimoth’s songs where there’s a ridiculous solo or a crazy premade melody I attach to each song as a back-up. Improvisation is not my strong suit but it definitely is Jerimoth’s. I think it’d be best if I played my memorable melody just to add something personal into the mix. Nostalgia is going to be our best friend in this case. For what comes after, I have no idea what will help. I’d have to convince Jerimoth that I was innocent and this was all one big mistake. What proof do I have? Nothing but my bloody fingerprints on my journal and my own testimony. Not nearly enough. If I were in a real court, from what I’ve read, The only hope I’d have as a defendant, is an insanity defense.

Ragazza’s voice wasn’t anything special when I first heard it, but after I had given her some intermediate advice yesterday, it improved significantly. The quality is of no importance, only the answer to a small lifetime curiosity. ‘What do female vocals sound like?’ An answer you can’t find in the woods. Still, If her singing was like her laugh, then I’d have no idea what to do to enhance it. Absolutely perfect. If I were in Jerimoth’s position, a single chuckle would be more than enough to take me out of the Scoraggiato form. Of course, I have a positive energy, always underlying optimism. I will never know how it feels to have that negative energy constantly weighing down on you like lead chains. Everything is a little murkier on his side and a little too bright on mine. 

After looping the song for 5 minutes, Ragazza stopped singing. “What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“We’re not getting anywhere,” She whined. I wish she knew how dangerous this was. That she was unintentionally handing Jerimoth the element of surprise. A weak spot, a hole through to the other side of the steel wall. I had known this though, and was readily waiting on the other side with a silver knife in hand. But, I never thought for one moment he’d actually come. It’s like a perfect, boring life with all the wealth I could imagine, in my throne made of gems. Merely stepping outside gives you a rush of adrenaline, but like all events, the walk was extremely anticlimactic - You’d always be waiting for something thrilling to happen for once in your dull, worthless life. Now and then, I wished to be staring… staring blankly ahead… Into the eyes of the real beast. 

And there he was, exposed, out in the open where I could perfectly see his canine fangs below his curled chops in a deep, and horrifying snarl, causing vibrations in the ground. Ragazza could see it too. Hunched over in the stance of a hissing cat, back hairs raised on it’s arched spine like miniscule skyscrapers on an enormous, orbiting sphere in the sky. My hands shook at the sight of those luminous, earthy gold eyes sending piercing needles of longing into mine. Longing to be free, longing for time to fold over and reverse, longing for the fresh, coppery taste of human flesh and iron-y entrails he’s been deprived from. Even if it costs me, I will prevent that acquired taste from ever gratifying his savage taste buds.

Right then as he was preparing to lunge at the paralyized prey, I struck an impressive, colorful chord to throw him off- and truthfully it shook me too. I did the first thing I thought of with desperate impulsiveness and It worked. The scoraggiato took it’s wild, animalistic eyes off of my amiable guest and glared unblinkingly, his scowl penetrating the deepest part of my soul. How can it be that inside this massive creature is a short, tiny 9 year old boy? I wanted to shout- no, scream his name, in hopes that my voice may resonate inside of him and bring forth the memory of happiness. So, I did. I called out to him through the harsh strumming of the rough strings. From my mind, my heart, into my bloodstream, down to my fingers and brushed into the air by the warm release of chords from the acoustic guitar. Only sounds, not English nor Italian, just to hear my voice- my metaphorical voice- calling him. 

Ragazza joined in on queue but not the way I expected. She, too, was trying to yell him out of this state by completely ditching the lyrics and only using one legato sound, ‘ah'. I met her smiling eyes, knowing what she was doing. She shrugged as if to say ‘Eh. Screw words!’ Like the Ragazza I knew and admired. 

For a moment, the beast settled, slouched a bit like a depressed dog staring at an empty bowl. Like the thing actually knew the difference between right and wrong. As suddenly as it had lost control, it had snapped back into focus, attuning its gaze quickly toward the closest scent. Ragazza. But before he could do anything about it, Ragazza bent her knees, twisted her left foot, and kicked Jerimoth square in it’s jaw, squirting out droplets of blood from either a past victim or Jerimoth himself. He recoiled in agony, whining, swollen at the impact point. He barely had enough time to estimate the damage before there was another, sharper blow to the shoulder blade from the left. Still in perfect tone, she had struck Jerimoth with the stiff back part of the heel of her black boot. 

When she told me she could take him, I didn’t think she’d actually start beating him out of nowhere. All I could do was stand idle, mouth ajar, watching her fight with stunning elegance and hurt on the inside as my brother did on the outside. Shadows defined his exasperated expression, flipping the tables in one menacing glare. In those eyes was a furious vengeance fueling a wrath colossal enough to commit a murder. If She hadn’t clumsily tripped over a buried root in the dirt, she would've died in a single, lethal blow from the indignant scoraggiato, as cruel and uncaring as he was; and Ragazza, as spontaneous and reckless as she was.

When I saw her, helplessly staring at the dark, emaciated wolf-man hovering over her quivering body, flecking bits of drool onto her muddy jeans. I knew then, after this week and all the meticulous planning of before then, replaying the scenario continuously until I drifted into a deep slumber, practicing with Ragazza and her enchanting chuckle, what had to be done.

“DEEP IN THE WOODS IT CAAALLLS YOU!” I struck a disharmonious chord with so much force, it nearly pulled me to the wooden floor. My voice echoed several times in the emptiness of the expanse just like how Jerimoth’s accusations resonated within my mind, causing me to teeter on the edge of sanity. How loneliness has taken me in and enveloped me in obliviousness and infected me with lies, doubts. Heckling in my ears, taking the form of swirling shadows. Now was the time to see clearly. They both gawked at me silently with astonishment, one of them turning their gaze into a malevolent glare. I slowly inhaled, then exhaled, releasing my panic. Hastily, I start strumming the pattern, knocking tentatively on the guitar’s hollow, wooden walls.

“You’re falling deepeeeerrr into this mess,” I take a couple of strides off the porch toward the aghast scoraggiato, which now looked nothing more than a sorrowful puppy. Ragazza was right, as usual, when she said I should’ve been excited. Now, I am thrilled. “Well, maybe I can help?” I smile hopefully into his eyes, The way he had glared into mine, this time sending reassurance and infinite understanding. I feel it’s warm breath moving through my shirt and onto my stomach, the breathing heavy and scarce. The pupils of his eyes were little dots swimming in the rippling whites of his eyes. In fact, bit by bit the waves and lines of it’s iris’s were gradually losing its color, like a roll of fog concealing the brilliant rays from the scorching sun like the convenient weather on this fine day. There he was, My brother. I didn’t even need to question myself. Didn’t stop to think that maybe this was a foul trick. I just brushed my hand along the bloodstained fur of it’s muscular jaw and scratched lightly behind it’s long, pointy ears.

His eyes drooped wearily and he made an unsuccessful effort to pull his head away. His sturdy back legs became his main source of balance as he turned towards the Mad House and gained the ability of a biped. Not long after his third, feeble step, he collapsed to the ground in a fury of shrieks and hostile growls. Swiftly, I warned Ragazza to get inside the house before he transformed, though she would be in no real danger. The only reason was the horrific cracking of bones and the scarring sound of tearing muscles as they swerved back into the body, a pale cocoon from the reversed stages of the life of a butterfly. I didn’t mind watching if it meant being there for Jerimoth, but by the way she looked concerningly at me in my moment of suffering, I knew she must not be strong enough to endure the affliction- and neither was I at that moment, but nothing was going to stop me from being there for Jerimoth, even my own pain. 

I briskly skipped down the stairs in search of a woolen blanket to hide Jerimoth from the elements of the world and so I wouldn’t have to awkwardly avert my gaze to the side as I reasoned with a garb-less little boy. The best I could find on such short notice was a thick, grey fabric, notorious for its scratchiness. Like the urgency of putting out a flame with a pail of water, I rushed up the stairs and threw the stretched out blanket on top of him. He reacted with a final, peculiar shiver before chunks of flesh compressed into fair skin and hairs seeped back into him like worms after rain. His visible breath became less when his body temperature naturally plummeted to the average for him. He still had the same thick eyelashes and brows from when I last saw him as a little boy. He was almost exactly the same, only minorly touched by age and a few inches taller, but still the boy I knew from before. The same Jerimoth with the same, beating heart and the same breathing lungs… and for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was just laying there peacefully in front of me, like all of my suffering had all been worth it for this tiny moment.


	11. Never clever enough to know the wrong they’ve done

September 16th, 2010. Thursday at 2:30 P.M. 

Jerimoth: age twelve, medium warm grey eyes, slightly dark brown hair that covers his right eye, a small cut over his left eye from the night before, when he wasn’t himself. Sniffing the air desperately, he caught a subtle whiff of fresh, untouched meat in the strong blasts of pine. He scrunches up, back foot planted in the dirt, both enormous, slightly dull with use, long front claws sunk into the dirt. There was only a second of complete stillness before he lunged into a full sprint, tearing the ground underneath. He gave a low, bone chilling growl as he struck a furry, brown squirrel. It shrieked, waving its arms, gasping for air. Jerimoth watched in amusement as it started to slow down. He munched on the squirrel for a bit, thinking to himself. This meal is insufficient for such a massive creature like me. I need mo-. His thoughts were interrupted by tranquil guitar playing in the distance. For a reason unknown, it aggravated him to the very core. He thought “Why did you have to bring that up,” in his main language, though he didn't understand why he had said this to himself. He barely understands the words he thinks sometimes. Only words like why, the, have, only, and that, the simpler words in both languages. On all fours, he ran at full pace, lunging with every step. He emerged from the wall of trees and scanned the area for the source. There was a smell, a smell so very familiar, it was hard to forget, joined by another which reeks of all sorts of strong flowers. He turned to see a blue adolescent, joined by another, similar age, similar height, but she had sun kissed skin in a different color. More of a less saturated red color. Jerimoth jumped out at them, teeth bared, eager to finally get the meal he thought he so utterly deserved. 

Everything was cold, but I couldn't really feel it. Even on a snowy day, from what I can remember, I’d never feel it. I could lay in the snow for hours and never get frostbite. But at that moment, I could’ve sworn I’d felt a stab of cold. For only a second, as my fur turned to soft skin, I was cold. My entire body was trembling, there wasn’t a thing in the world that could save me. It was the weirdest feeling, like falling. I got that stomach drop right before those sore pains, as if my muscles were like snakes, slithering into my body then disappearing or condensing. I was strong not all that long ago. I’d be out all the time searching for the typical small things, ripping the ground as I lifted my muscular paw, so you can only imagine what happened when I found something. I’d never stop because I’d never sleep and never. Get. Cold. For some unknown reason, I was used to it. For as long as I can remember I’ve barely slept at any time. But now I feel like collapsing, keeping my eyes closed forever. Letting the chilling wind brush my hair and tickle my nose as I slowly drifted into a perpetual oblivion. I didn't have the desire to move a single bone in my feeble body. It was not until I heard a familiar voice that I started noticing things. 

I had relatively sharp fangs and flat molars. I was like… what was it again, oh duh, I was an omnivore. But how? How would I bite down on my victims and let the blood flow out? My massive claws were now merely twigs in comparison to the wide, tough, razor-sharp nails I had only a few seconds ago. I had heard this sound again and tried to identify it by it’s scent, but it didn’t smell like anything. I couldn’t smell anything. I was so scared by the thought of death, an electric spark went through me and I forced open my eyes. It was like looking through a thin layer of ice from under a lake. I could only see unrecognizably blurry shapes and little streams of light, one in which was far from a natural color. There were abnormal streaks of greyed down purples and medium blues. The black streaks with blue ends extended outwards from the purple like arms, unless, that is what they are. I heard the sound a bit clearer now. It was soft and soothing. I felt a small stream of warm air on my face as the trees started to fade into view. The shadows had a purplish hue, dull like the wetness of the atmosphere and the earth. The sky was light grey like my somber eyes. Actually, if the clouds were to represent my problems and my eyes are the windows to my very soul, then everything good that happens to me is covered by the thick, rolling waves of fog in my irises caused by the abnormal temperature of my freezer-like body. But something about this weather helped to melt away the darkness of the fog, uncovering a shivering little thing in the darkness. ‘He remembered my favorite type of weather.’

I see now, the person in front of me. The name was as unclear as his facial features, but I could still see the general shapes. Yes, I did remember that he is a he, but who is he? I cocked my head to the side in befuzzlement, his name eludes me but I can clearly sense the mixtures of energies emitting from him. Feel it. He spoke again more harshly, clutching onto my aching shoulders and shaking me softly. Then as suddenly as he had started, he had let go and faced the deep forest. There were all these things happening inside of my head, all these experiences, but the only one that really stood out to me was a draining energy. I didn’t know how to react, I would've already ripped his arms off if I was in my most monstrous form, but I wasn’t. I was merely a fraction of what lay hidden inside of me, a horrific beast. 

Then, something sparked, I could feel my knobby toes, licked my singular sharp fang, raised my eyebrows, and stretched my arms. I tried desperately to extend my arm towards the dark, round end of his foot to tell him I was not to be ignored, or was it he was not to be ignored? Horrific, Huh?The word resonated within my brain, bouncing off every thought as I slowly reached for the tip of his foot. That's what we are and we know it, and then it all stood still. I just let go of all thoughts and focused on the present because what I was starting to comprehend was way beyond the limits of time and space. There in front of me, caught in my grasp, was the tip of a dark, leathery boot and the twisted figure it belonged to as it sat upright on the wood porch. My vision was sharp, at the highest of quality. I could see every freckle on his stunned face, every little dash in his widened eyes. I could even see my melatonin challenged face in the reflection. Keeping the same expression, he brushed back the large clump of hair covering my right eye, then cringed away from me, letting my hair fall back into place. 

He rose from the place where he sat and spoke, every word loud and clear. “Here.” He stepped around me, turned the doorknob, and pushed open the splintering door, the paint chipped to the point of extinction. He cocked his head to the side, standing in one place with adequate posture and lightness in his stance. I had a feeling he was imitating me. “You can’t-”He spoke while making dramatic gestures with his hands so I could understand, though it only confused me more. He paused and stared directly at me. “Speak… Can you?” He mumbled. Then he rubbed his face and turned away from me. “Of course you don’t know. You’ve been gone for,” He inhales sharply through his teeth. “three… maybe four years?” I understood. I caught every word and decided it was time to stop squirming in the packed snow and finally get somewhere… somehow. Walking should have been easy, but it’s like being a blank dvd that plays music it doesn’t have, I knew how to walk naturally, but didn’t know how to walk.. My mind is completely rid of almost all knowledge, but I know everything. Small bits and pieces were coming back like taking a towel and a filthy window then wiping it spot by spot until you could see through it. Before I could rise, he turned and instructed “Not yet,” everything was still, except for the gentle wind brushing past my face and shielded by the thick, wooly blanket. “Let me leave first,” He carefully walked around me, the wind pushing him towards the large wooden platform in front of the ragged building. He stopped to look at me one last time, a hopeful expression crossed his face. I opened my mouth and tried my hardest to spit out a sentence, but to no avail. Soon, he turned and was gone. Out of sight. 

As I lay there in the gloomy weather, I noticed little bits of frozen water were starting to fall from the sky. A seemingly mysterious phenomenon at the moment. When I attempted to stand, I instantly slipped on the slick sticks, landing on my soft palms and muddy knees. The air from the blanket brushed against my skin, causing me to quickly shift away in instinct. I find I have only one way to go. Shoot, I hate crawling. I wrapped my fist around a bunch of branches, suddenly craving the tender meat that is venison. I fantasize the sharp tearing sound it´d make when digging my black claws under the dense fur of my victim and swirling my wolfish fingers in the spring of blood, licking the steam until it ran dry like a cool river in the desert. Oh, how I still wish I was able to sink my teeth into a juicy carcass.

Step by step, if you can even call it that, I crawl at a snail’s pace toward the smooth-surfaced concrete stairs of the shack. When my fingers brush the rounded edge of the first step, the one now covered in slushy snow, I tighten the wrap around my body and plant one foot in front of me. At first, I had no thought as to what I was doing, flexing my rarely used leg muscles. But it became clear after I was already wobbling on two feet that my human form didn’t care how much I knew, it wasn’t going to keep on slithering down the stairs like some sort of drunken viper. I placed the palm of my foot tentatively onto the first step down from the first level, but apparently too forcefully because quickly I slid on the murky puddle, dripped from the corner of the woolen sheet of fabric hanging from my skeletal shoulders.

Luckily, I caught my clumsy self on the side railing, barely holding on itself, collapsing in another world where I weighed at least one pound more. In another world where I weighed one pound more. I took this as a good chance to steady myself and reobtain my natural animal intellect to ensure my safety as I attempt to basically climb down these stairs to the best of my inadequate abilities. Walk. Walking. Stepping. One foot in front of the other. I reach back into the chronologically organized file in the pink tissue of my compact brain, desperately grasping at whatever infantile memory I could keep a hold of. Breathe. Eat. Sleep. Cry. Giggle. Aha! I set my right foot on the cemented staircase, soon followed by the other. Victorious. Like a wounded fawn, I stumbled down the stairs, breaking every couple of steps to remember a little more about why I’m here. All I got was that I was a son with an impeccable IQ that lived in a humble cabin in the woods with my family, struck by the mystical, phenotype swapping moons. Seeing how ridiculous that was, I chuckled inside, not really knowing how to do it on the outside without transitioning into a fit of coughing. 

After what seemed like an arduous journey across the forbidden sand dunes of the most ancient times, appropriately named “The Dunes Of Sabbiosa.” Translation, the dunes of sandy, I had reached the glorious end. Around the room were various chip sizes on the tables and cabinets attached to the walls, the floors filthy and the walls plain grey. On top of one of the tables, which made me shiver for some reason, was a wooden box full of random tapes, illegible writing in ink on them. On the mustard yellow couch, stained with anything ranging from coffee to blood, there were draped fabrics. Seeing the boy from upstairs, I could guess what they were for and didn’t need to dig through my unorganized folders, thank goodness. When I dropped the cloth wrapped around my arms, I was aghast by my emaciated-looking figure and the arbitrary bruises mainly found on my chest. 

All of the muscle I had gained, built up to succeed in every week long hunt and the tedious task of incessantly stalking my prey at a distance, now amounted to nothing as I counted all the visible ribs on my torso and the frustratingly diminutive bones in my fingers. 30 bones. 10 ribs and 20 distinguishable finger bones. The sum, the easiest mathematical concept. I looked as cadaverous as the mangled trail of the deceased doe, stag, and it’s fawn offspring. I also counted my bruises. ‘16 dark, purple bruises and’ I wipe the blood from a cut above my right brow. ‘One permanent scar.’ I sighed, exhaling in exasperation. 

“Aidan.” I grumbled, grinding my teeth as if they even needed to be any duller. Then I realized, Aidan! That’s the boy’s name! In a hurry, I tore the clothes from it’s cushiony perch, ripping it from it’s dazed position, and had no struggle slipping the rough textured fabric over my scrawny legs nor did I have to wrestle the deep red, sleeved shirt over my skeletal arms and angular elbows that looked to have the ability to cut bread just as effortlessly as a blade. When I rolled on the last sleeve of my blue, yellow striped sweater, there was a twinkle from the edge of my peripheral vision. When I turned to inspect the possible chemical reaction, I was startled to find two, rather enormous eyes examining me as well. I shook and staggered back, a little revolted that it had watched me drop the blanket and slip on the available clothing without even making themselves known. Then, I realized with increasing embarrassment, that it was just a refraction of the light mirroring what it saw with it’s large glass eye, never recording the sights it saw. If it did though, it would tell of a horrendously dismal event, incessantly rewinding the excruciatingly unhurried demise of two hollow guardians, having their seemingly unconditional love trusted enough by the creators to carry an offspring for each of their beings to nurture, only to bring forth disappointing efforts and eventually abuse, though it was never the real obvious type. Of course, I didn’t know this at the time. In simpler terms, it was the old TV. Seeing it’s glassy eyes, I hadn’t known what happened to them, how they fell into eternal darkness all because of me, which all led back to the real problem I hadn’t found.

I smoothed the wrinkles of the blue, collared sweater, the yellow stripes reviving dead memories, yanking more and more files at a time. Only now did they have an emotion attached to them like little spiders, appealing to the pathos side of my brain. My small amygdala in the limbic system was overwhelmed with reappearing memories, all flooding back, stimulating all sorts of repressed emotions all flowing out at once now that there was a chance for escape. Occupying all space for any sort of processing of current senses. It was hell, or maybe just life merely in one moment. So basically the same thing. 

Aidan, I remember, was rough, very playful, and enjoyed exercise more than anyone should. He’s never really depressed, It was the mental pain that he couldn’t handle, I think. Naturally rejecting every bit of resentment spat from our father’s white lips like a montra. It’s another thing I’m better at, letting in negative emotion. Yet, he was always the faster one, somehow camouflaging with the trees when he should’ve been hiding in the water. Very stealthy, and very agile. I can still beat him in a race any day, but only because I have the ability to dematerialize, and materialize anywhere I please within a five mile radius. That’s the only unexplained power either of us have. I’ll dematerialize so fast, to the naked eye it will seem as though I just disappear. I was a cheater. Aidan was a mama’s boy for sure, just as much as I was father’s pupil. He taught me complex mathematical equations, as much as I could handle. The last lesson I learned was when I was nine, into the second unit of Algebra one. f(x)= 5x + ½. Easy graphing like this is my break from geometry. He told me I was in the 9th grade, I assumed that meant my age, but I wasn't learning how to add when I was one. My favorite, more complicated subject was science. All kinds of it! I’d read myself to sleep with scientific textbooks about Biology, Geology, Physics, and my own kind of science, shapaulogy, the study of the unique abilities of the lunar mutation, something that should be feared. I have a theory as to why Aidan is so blue, but I have yet to see any concluding evidence. 

I push through the curtains of nostalgia, my metaphorical body entangled in a perpetual ribbon, one that’s in desperate need of a combing. To be straightened out, curled into a giant roll, and pulled out when needed. I ultimately decided to wriggle free and procrastinate to sort it all out later. It’s necessary that I see Aidan again, my brother whose skin couldn’t be farther colored from mine. Pink and blue. I strive to find out what happened there. I started tiptoeing to the stairway again, brushing my arms on the mustard couch, letting the nerves in my fingers detect the texture, travel to the brain and let out memories of burying my face in it’s cushions. I feel the forces of gravity pushing my feeble body to the ground, of whom I was helping by pushing back with it’s normal forces. One. Step. At. A. Time… It felt like I was heaving a bag of flour with me, or maybe it just clung to my back like a droplet of water on a frail stalactite. Or is it stalagmite? I always get those two confused. 

I raised my left foot… and the monotonous journey of climbing up exactly - one,two, six steps was finally at it’s joyous end. After much trial and one almost fatal error, I have breached the musty, chemical-smelling climate of the Mad House and into the freshness of the brutal wilderness, my home, once again. I sniff the air, oxygen rapidly being forced into my lungs by short, curious breaths through my nostrils that, to my realization, a human could only attempt to do with little to no triumph. My consolation prize was an irritating round of wheezing from my part. Still coughing like a dying, elderly goat, I take my second expedition, the sequel to the “Jerimoth struggles to walk like a functioning human” series, across vast expanses… of the shack door to my front porch. How exhilarating. I stumbled to the front door, hopping over the short flight of stairs. Not again. While examining the door, I heard a high pitched voice through the cracks of the splintered door in such bad shape, touching it’s wood would be like deliberately stroking a porcupine on its needles. 

“So you just left him out there?” Their high pitched voice made me quail from the door, especially with their irritated tone. There was a knock at the window, two eyes peering through, a straight hand held out over their brows. Long, almost straight, slightly frizzled brown hair was all I could make out. Next, I heard the crumpling of rough, crunchy fabrics like dried alligator skin against the opposite side of the door, a creak as if someone was leaning against it. Consequently, I lowered the intensity of my respirations. Followed, was a pathetic whine in defense.

“I didn’t know what to do! He barely understood what I was saying. I couldn’t handle it anymore. He just looked so dreary lying there on… the ground,” he trailed off, his breaths getting choppier, clearing holding back the water droplets from the lacrimal caruncle, wincing in pain to the point where it almost appeared as if they were smiling. The other body in the room did not seem to notice though, like the sad one was wearing a porcelain face and their face spat false emotions to hide what their face was really screaming. I bet they just looked dead. That’s what I looked like before. I shuddered, thinking how it was too all similar, wondering if that boyish voice was actually my brother’s, the blue adolescent. I hunched down in the cold, panting in terror caused by the familiarity and unfamiliarity of the predicament.

“Alright, but you’d better check up on him. He’s probably freezing… wherever he is,” the peculiar pitches and nuances in their voice were rather enchanting, but partially irksome as well. I admire the whole deeper tones more than the squeaky ones, although It was only a minor issue for this subject. Freezing though? Now that’s one thing I can’t be. 

“You clearly don’t know him,” he laughs, making reference to my cursed ice powers. Something so desired, yet so unwanted at the same time. I am not entirely sure how I feel about these abilities. Before I could ponder it more, however, I hear the sounding tick of a door knob being turned, pulling back the audible lock mechanism probably worn from overuse, swearing at me for all the physical damage I've caused it. I cowarded away, flinched as the door creaked open and an unexpecting Aidan strolled out, jumping a foot when he noticed his little brother listening. He froze, his watery brown pupils seemed to shrink when his eyelids flew open to the point you could barely tell they were there with all that white showing. His mouth was ajar as if he were going to say something, but all that came out were empty, warm breaths in place of words. Sentences? None at all. We don’t do that here.

“Woah,” I heard the high pitched voice from before exhale from across the room, leaning on the island I barely remember. Aidan turned back to the long haired, peach skinned human behind him, gave them a horrified look as if they’d understand. When they caught my brother’s gaze, something sparked in their face, their demeanor, but most impressively the hard to reach places internally like the darkest, gaping central parts of the pupil which created an exothermic luminescent chemical reaction, radiating a millisecond of sparkle. I didn’t know what it was, but even Aidan’s shoulders loosened when they threw an excited smile. It was slightly familiar to me, not because Aidan ever sparked like that, because I did. It made the back of my throat produce a low grumble, a growl if you will. Then he spun his head back towards me, fixing his gaze on my eyes as if they were some sort of ripe fruit in a land scarce of most resources. As if I were just the correct remedy to just miraculously appear on the filthy mat of our doorstep for the sickness of seclusion after all these years. 

“Jerimoth,” He breathed, respirating quickly as his heart rate accelerated. I must be a ghost or something, because no one would get this freaked over this. Aidan’s scraggly hair was just as unkempt as I remembered it, though it usually took care of itself without the need for a brushing. One thing he wasn’t before, was this tall. It seemed as if he’d grown an entire foot or two since whenever I transformed, and he’d become a bit thinner too, a little in the healthier way, not that he really needed to lose any weight before. He’d grown up the right way, seeing how the black fabric tightly curved around the muscles of his arms, still much room for improvement but notable for a genetically weak and skinny teenage boy like him, stopping at the shoulders with a strange purple sleeveless jacket, or robe I had never once seen. It shouts out the speckled purple freckles dotted on his mysterious blue skin, something I've always been around before. Gul must’ve worked him hard, or maybe I did. One smaller detail was the value of his eyes, they’ve gotten a little lighter. In fact, he looks a bit exhausted.

I couldn’t help but notice the character in the background, grinning at me with such intensity it looked like they’d wanted to straight up murder me. Their outfit was rather simple, a black leather jacket overlaying a creamy orange colored shirt, casual blue jeans stretching downward toward their roughed up leather boots directly matching their deep colored jacket. Nothing as extravagant as my brother’s outfit: black sleeves under a loose, heavy, grayish tank top all covered by that odd cape, reaching down to his knees. Then just a pair of practical, brown boots and loose black jeans, a favorite of ours seeing as I was also wearing black jeans which currently didn’t fit me as well as they used to, being this thin. The character in the back looked only slightly malnourished, telling me that Aidan won the healthiest in the room award, me coming in last place.

“H-hey,” I mumbled, stuttering in my low, breathy voice. His light brown eyes bore into mine with an ecstatic terror, again reminding me of an extravagant gift. That’s how he felt about me. What he saw me as right now. I couldn’t, and never will, understand how he could just have this uplifting energy that might as well be springs in his boots. Instead of being melancholy like he would be if he were normal. He lives a richer life numbing it all and only leaving dreamy hallucinations and jovial thoughts out of any context, or feeling the heaviness without actually realizing the cause. That is the positive of being the embodiment of fire. We just stood there in silence, the only sound being the tapping of feet by the person in the background, their unreadable eyes directed neither to me or my brother, just in between. 

“Hey,” Aidan repeated. Then his mouth curved into a wide grin, showing most, if not all of his naturally fine teeth. Fine and straight, but not edgily sharp like mine, a serious con, I believe. “Oh thank goodness you’re back!” He spoke at an unusual, booming volume, throwing his arms up into the air. Then he shrunk down to a more unassuming tone, realizing he was shouting. Even though he was looking at me, I could tell he was really thinking of the background character as he awkwardly scrunched his shoulders closer to his neck. “Just thank goodness,” He echoed in a soft, relieved whisper. Not long after, the figure emerged from the living room, making way to the door to meet me. 

“Hi, you don’t know me. I’m Ragazza,” They held out their hand like they were expecting me to notice it. So I did. I stared at it. Silence until they eventually pulled it back to their side… very slowly. So, I guess their gender is pretty obvious then, Ragazza. To increase levity, I amiably decided to joke about her name literally meaning girl. But before I could make my witty comment, Aidan decided to cut in line, speaking for me.

“He might not understand yet,” he made dramatic gestures as if speaking two languages, one no one understood. Ragazza nodded anyway. He could be very expressive sometimes. I cut through the conversation in my defense, I am more than capable to make an idiotic joke, thank you very much. 

“That’s funny,” I cut and They both turned their attention towards me, gawking like I was a poetry-reciting baby. “Because I’m Ragazzo,” I grinned, the least I could do. Both Aidan and Ragazza seemed rather unamused, Ragazza looking a little perplexed too. Despite my hilarious originality, they were still quiet, hanging on my words. “Nah. The names-” 

“Jerimoth, I know. Aidan told me,’ she tells me. Suddenly I feel how quiet the house really is. I looked questioningly at Aidan.

“Does mom and dad know she’s here?” I ask. I felt a sense of foreboding when Aidan bit his lip and Ragazza mouthed a long ‘oh’, letting her chin fall to her chest. My spirits sank further, below the floor of the oceans. I wasn’t hesitant to assume. “They’re dead aren’t they?” I spoke plaintively. Aidan just nodded.

“Uh… I’m pretty sure mom… uh. and dad followed. I had a… I was outside so I didn’t hear anything. They would’ve been easier to drag if you were there you know,” He sighed, leaving Ragazza looking absolutely horrified at the thought of a child burying their parents, if that’s what he did. How could he just casually utter those words that made it so clear that in the four years I was gone, sanity had melted in his brain and dripped from his ears. Our parents are dead? It didn’t strike me as much as it should’ve. Maybe it was because I never really spent time with mom and dad was just a teacher to me. To me, he’s only there to educate me, that man had not an ounce of nurturing spirit in his body. I’d never look to him for pity, just knowledge. That’s it. Pity? That’s what Aidan’s for.

“Wait a minute,” she spoke, mouth dry and words weary. “You dragged them?” Aidan nodded again solemnly. Ragazza stood close, mouth ajar, now aware of the possibility.

“Can’t we talk about something else?” He mumbled irritably. 

“I guess,” mumbled Ragazza. I was a little angry at the fact they didn’t give me a say, but, truthfully, I would rather talk about it alone with my brother. “Aidan tells me you’re good at playing the guitar.” 

“I prefer electric guitar,” I added, feeling the excitement of passion rush over me as I, myself, remember the fine days where I used to just pluck the strings of my maple wood electric guitar, having it unplugged from the holiday gift Gul got me. Someone who basically gets everything for free because he does absolutely nothing but sulk and act surly. I’ve decided he’s my grandfather, even though that’s probably not true. I call him grandpa Gul, as children do. And he detested me, as a prickly old regal monarch would do. So it was fair. But when he only knew my younger self, when he had heard I was in need of an amp, he jumped at the chance to win Aidan’s loyalty by throwing our family into even more debt, I believe. He admittedly had malintentions to make Aidan his eternal guard, or slave if he pleased because Aidan had always followed a lifestyle of strict obedience. But this is just my view, not scripture. The amp had a shining crystal frame, a sleek black structure, and I could not resist its harsh, resounding voice. One that greeted me with warm feelings no matter who I was selling out for. 

“Yeah, he has a lot more skill than I do,” said Aidan. Ragazza chuckled at this, all she could do without rolling her eyes right in front of me. Maybe she saw my average sized hands as a weakness. Sure, but nothing can beat fast and flexible. I could tell she didn’t believe him, or the truth at that. At this point there’s no pride to be taken in anything when it’s all you are. Seemingly good at it all when really you lack everything that matters. what I think matters? Aidan and I were just different in our approaches. 

Silence invaded the room, filling every crevice and chunk of the atmosphere, becoming increasingly warmer by the second as my powers seeped back into me and made way for balance between the two equal, yet so opposite forces. Even the color of our skin was almost across the color wheel, but with different values. Amongst the peaceful quietness, I had noticed Ragazza had slipped back to the island and once again assumed her casual lean, as if she had nothing particularly imperative on her mind. I didn’t either, but for the reason I couldn't. I saw Aidan step back to get a good view on both of us, preparing to make dialogue. 

“So, by the position of the sun, I’d say it’s somewhere between 3:00 to 4:00. Time goes fast I guess.” There was a touch of melancholy in that sentence, the way he phrased ‘time goes fast.’ Ragazza nodded, knowing something I didn’t. Then she gasped in the oxygen as if she were about to say something, but halted in her tracks, letting out a weak, disappointing puff of air. Then she regained whatever courage she’d lost and started speaking again. 

“Why don’t I stay a little while longer,” She spoke with shyness. The last word, “longer”, evoked the reaction I saw before, but this time clearly in Aidan’s eyes. A flurry of raging sparkles crackling from the depths of his soul, shooting out the lens in glorious rays. I’m not kidding, it was that dramatic. Even if it had only lasted a second. “I’ll leave bright and early tomorrow. I just need to be prepared for whatever’s coming next,” She continued. Aidan grinned widely, not caring what she made of it. To this, I felt bitterness grow rapidly inside of me, certain of the fuel.

“Ok,” he spoke, noticing how I was narrowing my eyes at him in an untrusting, intrigued sort of way. What are you doing? What is this? The room was once again engulfed in a complete stillness, brilliant timing for what was crossing my mind right now, the infuriated memories writhing up from the ground like infectious worms. The way my brother acted was familiar to me, in the way very personal to me, I could tell. I had once been as strange as this, being so jovial to a certain someone’s ominous name resting on the tip of my tongue. Resting. Like resting in the water with their lifeless arms sprawled out. Pale blue arms. In the rushing rivers. I remembered a peculiar, bone chilling lyric from one of my recent songs. Don’t get too close to the water, especially if there’s blue. 

It all rushed back at once. There he was, limping back on his sprained ankle, his pathetic, bone trampling ankles. He probably used one to push them into the rocky patches so they’d be too injured to rise back up and scream for help. As if we would've heard. I remember the horrified look on his face as he lied about each and every detail, how it all went down. Explaining it with garbs soaked and sagging with the colors grey and red. How he pretended to care, how he acted out the role of the innocent. It made me want to become a scoraggiato and tear him limb from limb, letting the blood spatter across my snout. My mother comforted him. To my father, it meant nothing like how it meant everything to me. You took it all away, you merciless, void of a being. My repirating quickened, and Aidan, though his powers are fire, he still has the ability to be cold, noticed with a spike of terror impaling his so vulnerable looking body. His eyebrows lowered in a quizzical fashion, pretending not to know why I’m panicking. I mean, raging. Looking down to avert his pitiless gaze, full of corrupt daydreams of the agonized screaming of living people we know, just to have it sting on the inside just as well as the outside. Betrayal is what they call it. I hope he has a scar from where they scratched him, if he kept it hidden before.

“Jerimoth, are you alright?” He questioned. What? Is this an interrogation now? I’m the one that should be questioning you! I force a meager mumble.

“Yu kwlld hhuw,” He looked even more confused now. 

“What?” He dared to ask. You know what, you brutal, lie oozing blue colored slug! You’re covered in a blanket of bubbly fibs, trying to protect yourself from the terrors you have caused. It’s about time you get stepped on, because things this ugly deserve the slowest, most torturous form of death. Worse than drowning. Maybe, his bones will snap inside his body and impale his lungs so he struggles to breathe. Funny in the way of irony, how it would all circle back in the end. How he’ll suffocate in his own blood just as they perished in water. I screamed at him with all the fury residing inside me all the years that I was a ruthless scoraggiato.

“YOU KILLED HER!”


	12. “If you fight fire with fire, you’ll get burned”

4:00 P.M.

Ragazza: upon hearing the words “you killed her” screamed at her only friend in this strange place; yelled at by a relative that’s known him since the moment they, themselves, were born, she doubts everything she's learned about him, how her current mood after her break up affected her ability to perceive things. A dark secret was spilled. It was such a shock, she was still shaking, shaking in her leather jacket. Shaking made worse by the dominating cold. Aidan? A killer? Honestly, It sounded plausible from what little she knew about him; his apparent isolation backstory. She just hoped she was wrong for two reasons. One, she wanted to think she was getting better and over Gary, and two… what’s two again? Oh right, he’s the only person she's talked to since her breakup and having someone to listen to and distract her from how inferior she was, felt really nice. That’s why she’s staying tonight, the drama just made it all the more entertaining. Nothing really mattered anymore. 

There was a stunned silence, one that made an audio absorbent room echo it till your ears made things up. Just like what I thought Jerimoth was doing at first, making things up. I was unwilling to believe such a serious, horrible accusation. Killed? It troubled me that Aidan had remained static and toneless all this time. It made me wonder whether or not he was truly trustworthy like I had concluded, my judgement being clouded and all by the perspiration of a devastating break up; Yet, I can still see the spark of flame rewinding in my mind and when you put those two together, nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Aidan’s hand catching fire and how I got here.

“Jerimoth, you remember…” He mumbled vacantly, as if he rehearsed this but was lacking a reason to care, like he was already prepared to give up. I know how that feels. Jerimoth didn’t need a script, only the wrath swirling around inside like a washing machine or a whirlpool.

“How could I forget, you cold hearted freak,” He accented his words barely above a whisper, the volume not at all affecting the harshness of his tone. The dense forest of eyelashes hanging on his eyelids sharpened his piercing glare, one that showed he really meant what he was saying. “you ended her life in one of the worst ways possible,” Finally, Aidan flinched at the mention of this “her,” like he was shaken out of a trance. I had no clue as to who this was, but I kept listening anyway, the polite side of me telling me I should move outside. Oh well, I like to be the witness. “I couldn’t handle it! I just couldn’t! You know why I made that song?” Jerimoth yelled as loud as he could, which by the natural subtleness in his voice, wasn’t too much for anyone to endure. 

“I-I think-” 

“YOU DON’T! I made that song after! AFTER you murdered her, I pretended to believe it was all an accident so I could get over the pain, but I couldn’t! You, mentally ill sky colored curse, killing the only person who knew what I was going through. Couldn’t have her taking mom's attention away, huh? You do realize she trusted you right? She trusted us so much she lived with us. Big mistake I guess. No, wait, she had NOWHERE ELSE TO GO,” Jerimoth raised his voice, a hint of fang on his left canine, possibly showing signs of scoraggiato retransformation. But that’s not what got me worried, you could see in his medium grey eye, a bubbling cauldron of golden colors like looking atop a lava lamp volcano, flecks of vicious gold flecks flipping and striking your eyes with white-yellow twirls. Even a surge of fear crossed over Aidan’s face when he noticed it, knowing he’s not just risking himself now. 

“Jerimoth,” He gagged. 

“SHUT UP!” Jerimoth growled through gritted teeth, grinding them like he was chewing the anger thrashing around in his mouth, rising from the deep shelf he’d kept it for almost four years. “Just admit it Aidan, you murdered her. Let it out. Don’t worry, there’s no shame in drowning a little girl,” he barked. Aidan looked back at me, stunned, shaking his head like I was the judge. A little girl? He seemed too innocent to hurt a fly, but not enough to drag a corpse? Two corpses? But we talked and… I guess he does seem a little off from time to time. I started looking at him in a new darkness. What if I fell for an act, seeing as recently I haven’t known much of anything. He turned back towards Jerimoth.

“You know I wouldn’t!”

“LIAR! You killed her!” He shouted. “You killed her- You killed her- You killed her- You killed her-You killed her,” He went on incessantly like a little toddler repeating ‘please’ until their parents broke and they got what they wanted. Jerimoth was pressing for a confession, so, really, it was all the same. Jerimoth wanted a confession. I just hoped the truth wasn't what he wanted. None of this was what he wanted.

“WOULD YOU JUST-” Aidan squeaked, trying desperately to cease Jerimoth’s mountraths. At this point, I had no idea what to believe, not being a part of the argument. Though it was trivial in comparison to the actual act, I was curious as to whom Aidan supposedly murdered. Would he? A girl? I don’t want to believe it, but that wouldn’t stop it from being true if it was. It was a headache worthy topic. “LISTEN! I swear I didn’t lay a hand on her! She-” Aidan shouted. You know when you hear something so outrageous, you just have to stop what you’re doing? Well, that’s exactly what Jerimoth did, fight back at that. 

“She what Aidan? She tripped? Is that what happened?” he spoke in an obvious sarcastic tone, scrunching his nose and pointing aggressively. He paused, retracting his pointer finger to his lips. “Or did she just get on your nerves?” He pursued. In response, I shifted awkwardly to the left, watching intently as if it were a dramatic scene in a sic com, but instead I was physically there, neck deep in the tension. 

“Never!” He yelled in defense. Aidan scowled, leaning forward like he was preparing to get into a fist fight, but I couldn’t imagine him actually doing so. Jerimoth’s eyes stayed intensely planted on Aidan’s, giving off such intimidation he lacked in voice. His stare was scary, even and especially with his luscious eyelashes that looked almost fake, but had to be real. His lashes were what every girl at my school longed to have.

“Sure,” Jerimoth snapped coolly, giving me an irritated side glance with his warm grey, medium-shade eyes. This striking glance admittedly made me jump. He mumbled something in italian, purposely pushing me out of the conversation, but at the same time saying my name, making me the actual conversation. What? I guess they want their argument to actually be private, since this is kind of a family thing. But deep down, right then, I barely noticed, I felt left out. Betrayed. Like I was a burden. I guess until then, I’d never actually considered the thought that I might be an intruder. The bluer brother made me feel unreasonably welcome, probably just to be hospitable. Aidan replied to Jerimoth with an aggressive ‘Fine’ scrunching his freckled nose, then they went off quarreling in Italian. Through the clutter of foreign language, I searched for a name, something I could understand. I reached back into the immeasurable depths of my memories to find what little Italian I know, struggling through the aching distraction of the quick sharpness of Z’s and the skillful rolling of the R’s on Aidan’s part, but grateful Jerimoth’s accent was barely there. I found the bare bones, something I don’t even know how to say in Italian. Also what I realized was that Aidan always had a bit of an Italian accent I’d never noticed, but was clear now. It was incredibly subtle when he was speaking in English, but pronounced in Italian it was at its boldest. Only because he didn’t know how to pronounce the words like I would, It sounded like he was guessing what they meant, but I knew that wasn’t true. He knew what they meant, how to say them, just not like I did. That was just fine.

Then all of a sudden “WHAT!” Jerimoth yelled, so outraged he once again snapped back to the original language. However, to my displeasure, Aidan kept his secretive dialect, even making it clear he didn’t want me to hear by making an effort to cover his mouth and whisper. 

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW I FEEL!” Jerimoth’s voice reached the highest pitch it could get, obviously pushing his soft, average teenage boy voice to it’s absolute limits. Definitely squeaky, resembling a creaking door. I was a little disappointed, what was I expecting, when Aidan further lowered his volume and inched a bit closer so Jerimoth could hear. Despite this, I could've sworn I’d heard my name. Hey! Is there something you’d like to say to me? I perked up as I heard the recognizable, ‘ts’ of my name, the cultured, correct pronunciation of it. Actually, whenever he says my name, the right way, I get…like, I don’t know, I love it… When Gary says my name, he butchers it in his full time American accent, sounding like a hissing snake in dry grass on a windy day; but when Aidan says it, he says it with accuracy, meaning, purpose. He even rolls the R! Not in a harsh way, but in a smooth manner, like how he played the guitar effortlessly. It makes me blush, really, because no one cares enough to say it properly but him. It’s a little embarrassing. Maybe I’m just looking too much into this. 

Jerimoth tensed up when Aidan finished the sentence, having such a grief-stricken facial expression I could only imagine what he was thinking. But then, he just kinda… let go. Like a bucket of water being thrown on a raging fire, Jerimoth cooled down to a much more manageable temperature, too manageable. Outside, it looked like heaven had opened its blinds and light came oozing in and quickly began its work melting away the powdery snow. Wait, was it just snowing?! I guess I hadn’t noticed before, but what I had noticed was how shaky Jerimoth’s breathing was. Absolute shock I reckon, but what do I have to do with it? Maybe I don’t have anything to do with it, maybe I just misheard him.

“Ah- Why should I believe you! She,” he pointed aggressively at me. ”can’t be your excuse Aidan,” Jerimoth barked, almost quite literally with how close he was to transforming earlier. Me? An excuse? What the heck did he say about me? I was starting to become a little red with frustration and a little embarrassment, I deserve to know what he said. Aidan responded as calmly as one could get, saying something short and simple, none of which I could understand. “NO! She couldn’t have said… that…'' he trailed off like a steam train coming to a halt. I guess Aidan knew the key to resolving his dispute the entire time, or did he just postpone it? “ I don't be..liev...e..” he closed his eyes, possibly dozing off. With that, Aidan placed his hands on his shoulders, saying something in English this time.

“It’s the truth,” He leapt to his need, clutching his shoulders so tightly there was no way he could fall. 

“Eh… I know I shouldn’t believe a killer,” He paused, whimpering at this point. “but this time I really want to. If she said that… Well that should just make me more angry at you, but…” he sniffled, then paused to breathe, but all he could manage were quick inhales, stuttering like driving on a rocky road. He kept his eyes closed, twitching back and forth between shut and tightly shut. A pure internal struggle. What Aidan said seemed to have been too perfect, like the solution to this problem was meticulously planned and given. It was way too strange, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Right then, It struck me that the two might not have been talking about me, but about the ‘little Ragazza’ Aidan murdered. Having a name that means girl proves rather inconvenient sometimes. But wait, Jerimoth pointed at me before so Aidan had to have said something about me! I decide to save it for later. At this stage, any healthy family would’ve already been embracing, telling each other that it’s alright, but the two brothers just stood respectfully apart, the only contact being Aidan’s hand on Jerimoth’s shoulders and even that felt distant. Looking at this display would make anyone sigh in despair. I could already see the similarities between the two, but the differences were much, much bolder.

“Jeri, I think maybe you should lay down a while…” Aidan suggested, calling him by a nickname I admired the simplicity and cleverness of. Still, don’t think I’ll ever be close enough to him to call him Jeri. He sees past his brother's hospitality and views me as a threat, someone here to disturb the balance like a fly in his water. Such different views, one a nuisance and the other… I believe before was a miracle, but seeing him cover his mouth like that made me significantly less sure he actually wanted me here. I guess I should’ve figured once Jerimoth got back, he wouldn’t want me here. What am I saying? He just needed my help once.

“Yeah… probably best,” he said very sluggishly, trudging past Aidan towards the stairs like even dragging his feet was arduous. What surprised me was how Aidan didn’t move a muscle to stop him. He just stumbled away, the only sound being the soft shuffling of clothing following Jerimoth up the stairs. He hesitated to open the door farthest to the right, his own room I guess, then turned towards us. That hesitation told me so much, how he wanted to turn back and find his entire family beaming while playing a game of monopoly, begging him to join them in their fresh game...If they even had a game like that over here. Alas, All he found was a major disappointment of a brother, for whom he felt revolted by, and two infinitely empty spaces next to him where two quintessential, role-model parents should be. In a way, even though he had someone, blood nonetheless, living in the same house, now he was going through the same struggles of isolation that Aidan had gone through. I just hoped that ache would eventually be the thing they find in common.

Jerimoth slipped past the wooden door and listened carefully as the door softly creaked and locked into a close. Similar to how after Jerimoth’s fury had entered, it was also dead silent when it left. Leaving us paralyzed with nothing to even think. The last sound we heard was a *clunk* and the springing of a mattress bouncing whatever was thrown on it. After a couple of minutes just staring at the door, Aidan shuffled to the stairs and tiptoed up them like they could all of a sudden fall beneath him. When he opened Jerimoth’s door, the one I was still gawking at, I was pleased to hear a breath of relief, telling me that Jerimoth was most likely, and impressively for time, fast asleep. Man, I guess being a restless scoraggiato without a minute of sleep to its name really wears you out.

Moving to the next subject, I looked over to Aidan who’s features couldn’t have been more relaxed. All day, he kept his chin up, nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed, and shoulders high, but now that he’s let it all go, he looks to be almost napping; his daylight dreams filled with moments at a cool waterfall that hissed softly as he brushed the steel strings of his light colored guitar in a harmonic frenzy. The thought reminded me of lofi. 

The minute he gazed up at me from the bottom step of the stairway, I had wanted to ask him what he told Jerimoth about me, especially since I was still rolling with irritation and curiosity, but I had to resist. It would be cruel to throw him back into another argument, though I’m certain if I did yell, he’d just shut up and take it from me. Not that I think we’d argue anyway, I’m just a bit surly right now. From the post Aidan was leaning on, he kept his eyes on me, staring expectantly, or at least I assumed at first glance. Looking again, He wore a slight smile and his pupils darted from one facial feature to another, anywhere from the neck up.Then, they stopped, transfixed on my bright amber eyes. Once they were locked, he frowned. The relaxed energy that was once soothing, turned into something too heavy to bear, it was sorrow. Something about me made him feel despair. Another reason why I’ll get up early to leave tomorrow…

“So,” Aidan paused, keeping his eyes on mine. “Do you want some water?” And instantly, I felt parched. What disappointed me when I noticed him again, was that Aidan had stopped gazing at me, something that was kind of flattering at the moment. Now all that’s left was an empty grin pasted to his face, something he had taken from Jerimoth, I’m sure. 

“Ok,” I sighed. He walked over to the same island that I was leaning against and pulled out a luxurious crystal vase that refracted so much light, it might as well have been rainbow colored. I assumed his next step would be to fill it up from the sink, but then I realized there was a perfect, dark circle above the sink where the faucet should be. 

“Sorry, we don’t actually have drinkable running water… I have to boil shower or river water. There’s one a little far away outside. Usually Jerimoth doesn’t… didn’t go there.” He changed tense now that Jerimoth was finally back. He sounded hopeful, as if there wasn’t a possibility that he could transform back any second. Aidan pulled out a large water dispenser and flipped the metallic switch which released the clear water straight into the crystal vase. The whole thing glowed furiously in all directions, sparkling onto the walls. When the vase reached its limits, he flipped the switch back up and brought it to the island which made a disgruntled clank as it was placed cautiously onto the surface. When his hands were around the vase, the whole room lit up with the color blue. I wonder how it feels to be blue, not to mention a pyromaniac, but I wonder if it feels different.

He reached in the cabinets again and pulled out two glass cups, quickly pouring water into both, then handing one to me. Savoring it, I pressed the hard, glassy surface to my chapped lips and took small sips at a time. 

“We should go outside, evening is always so fresh. What do you think?” He asked so suddenly. I was getting a little too used to the silence at this point.

“Won’t it be too cold?” I said, imagining the frost creeping up my arms and almost shuddered.

“Not anymore, Jerimoth exhausted his powers so we should have good weather for a while.” He smiled widely and nodded, the strands of hair on both sides of his face lagging behind slightly. 

“Oh good. Ok then.” I replied nonchalantly, not sure what else to say.

“Well even if its cold… I could always warm you up?” He spoke like he wasn’t sure what he was saying, but I was too distracted to even realize. “I mean, with my fire powers. I don’t even know if that counts as fire powers if I’m just heating the air with no flame.” He chuckled, but I kept staring off into space like I was deep in thought, which I guess I was. I was thinking of the girl that Aidan… drowned? Everything about that sentence seemed so wrong. If he wanted to kill her, why wouldn’t he have just burned her, as cruel as it sounds? Maybe to remove suspicion? Wait, she drowned, was she held down or did she do it herself? Why would she go into water if she couldn’t swim? If it’s really been at least three years, there wouldn’t be much of a crime scene left to figure these things out. Knowing these answers would remain a mystery until Aidan revealed them irritated me as much as large coffee stain on a white shirt. I didn’t think Aidan murdered this girl because he just seemed too innocent, but there was an eerie side to him that pokes out every once in a while, but would he kill?

“Hey... Ragazza?” Aidan waved cautiously, one brow raised quizzically and the other lowered with concern.

“Hm?” I turned to face him.

“You wanna talk outside? You seem really disturbed right now. Can I ask you what’s on your mind?” He asked very politely, it made me shiver how different he was from anyone I had ever known. Especially Gary. Why was I with that jerk again? Actually, this is a good thing! Maybe I can pry some answers from him.

“Yeah… Actually, I want to ask you a couple things…” I announced cautiously.. 

“Sure then! Let’s take this outside then.” He smiled, oddly cheery after the intense quarrel he just endured. Surely this argument must’ve led Aidan to think about the ‘little ragazza’ he supposedly murdered, so why is he so upbeat?

I timidly followed behind Aidan as he swung open the door, leaving it adjar for my convenience, and sat tranquilly on the edge of the decaying porch. He patted a spot close to him, beckoning me to sit by him so we can draw circles in the dirt with our toes. Or maybe I’ll just do that. I sat approximately one foot from him, just enjoying normal, chilly weather for once. Finally the forest looked warm, not like some winter wonderland. The pine trees were rapidly shedding and growing it’s needles, soaking water from the roots with xylem, which flows fractions of the lively river up its body to help build up the tree. It was like a construction site. Through all this time I spent remembering my 4th or 5th grade science class, Aidan was looking at my face. I didn’t notice at first, but after a couple minutes it became rather apparent. I know it’s rude to stare, but honestly I didn’t mind it so much. It kinda empowered me actually. 

“So, what’d you wanna ask me?” He questioned, a playful grin slapped on his face. He leaned a little towards me, waiting for my eye contact. I turned to him and asked the first thing that came to my mind,

“Why do you stare at me like that?” I tilt my head and wave my feet, curious for an answer. 

“Oh,” He paused, that playful grin turning into a sheepish one, “Well, you know…”

“Know what?” I blinked rapidly, perusing for his answer.

“Um, I’m s-sorry if what I say makes you u-uncomfortable again, but you’re j-just pretty. You know?” He stuttered, now wishing he hadn’t been staring in the first place. “Many people tell you that, don’t they,” he laughed awkwardly, his ginormous and scratching the back of his neck.

“Gary did, except he’d always use the word ‘hot’ instead of pretty,” I mumbled vacantly, facepalming at all the signs I never picked up with Gary and his heartbreaking scheme. Aidan just whispered ‘oh’ like he understood what I was talking about when, truth be told, he probably didn’t. Stupid protective parents. Anyways, I better start interrogating about the murder. “Could you tell me how exactly Jerimoth came to the conclusion that you drowned this little girl?” I questioned out of the blue and phrased my sentence like a Sherlock Jones. He just frowned solemnly at me.

“Oh, these were the questions,” he signed, looking disappointed and robbed of his cheery mood. He softly tapped the ground anxiously with his feet, maybe to distract him from the anguish he held. “She got here the same way you did, the light. She was only eight when she arrived and perfectly healthy. One day, we went to the river because she was stressed about something and she wanted to talk to me about it. Me! I was twelve or so at the time, and she was ten or nine. Jerimoth was eight so it had to have been sometime in the beginning of the year before spring. Maybe she thought since I was the oldest, I’d be the wisest. The opposite was true,” he signed sorrowfully. “Anyway, she started ranting about Jerimoth and how his behavior was troubling her, how peculiar it was, even though it seemed she had him figured out already… if that makes any sense.” He continued tapping the ground. “ She said she really liked him, which was basically what I told Jerimoth before, but I left out the part where she said… she” he took a long pause to swallow and think about what he was going to say, “ She was leaving the Sicurodom because of him. She didn’t like him to that magnitude and… something about a story? I forgot, I was just devastated by the talk of leaving and all,” He whispered plaintively, bending over so his forehead laid heavily on his knees and his eyes were hidden by his messy hair. It was so different from Gary’s whose hair was always shiny and slicked back, even shaven in the back and sides. On rare occasions, it just flops over his forehead like bangs and it’s really cute… Aidan’s hair maintained a shape on it’s own, like Jerimoth’s crazy fringe, but it could still easily be considered unkempt. This girl he was talking about… it seems like Jerimoth had a little crush on her and she felt uneasy with that so planned to leave because of... story? What? I mean, is that really a good enough reason to leave?

“What happened next,” I eagerly asked, prepared to take in and evaluate every word, putting all the pieces into a puzzle, a case.

“Well, that’s when I heard rushing water, a deluge. Li-,” He shuttered. “I mean, she wanted to check it out so she sprinted to the river and…” He stared off into the forest, lava forming on the bottom lid of his eye which he was trying to blink away, but to no avail. “She tripped on a root… and fell in…” He uttered, aggressively wiping his eyes. Anyone could see how much this tore him apart. He was on the brink of sobbing, although he tried his hardest to conceal it from me.

“I’m sorry…” I mumbled softly and sincerely, trying to be as comforting and mindful as I could manage.

“I blame myself… she was hanging onto a rock and I just… watched,” He cried. Anguish sharpened every feature, from his tightly shut lips to his wincing eyes leaking the venom of shame and the poison of regret. To me, it seemed like this event was the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him from floating into space, keeping him real. If he knew he’d hurt this much, why would he do it? I think thats the biggest flaw in Jerimoth’s assumption… maybe… Unless he’s playing me for a fool. Not again! I tried to console him while also finding answers to another question.

“It doesn’t sound like you murdered her like Jerimoth said...” I muttered. He gave another deep sigh.

“When we went back ten minutes later… the water was still, and she was…” He sharply inhaled and held his breath, trying to hold in the magma tears. “There. Definitely drowned,” he exhaled. I just sat there, numb minded, fuzzy eyed, and cold, soaking in what I heard with a splash disbelief.

“Impossible…” I murmured with incredulity.

“Apparently not,” he whispered to the forest, looking at how night was steadily creeping from the east we were studying, and stars already freckled the sky above, even if they were merely fading in at the time. The forest started to glow a little lavender, and every tree stood tall in front to catch a ray, blocking the luminosity from the many that grew further back. They were basking, bathing in the light proudly. Aidan just stared blank-face at it. “My theory is the deluge hit a wall and changed directions, leaving the water nearly motionless like that. It’s just a guess though, I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He sighed.

“Hey, it’s better than any idea I can come up with,” I laughed, hoping my chuckles didn’t make things worse. He seemed to lighten up, and even produced a weak smile from the corners of his mouth. I smiled with him until I realized I had to burden him with more painful questions… well, at least one. Might as well ask the easiest one first. “So Aidan,” He nodded eagerly. I sighed, hoping this question wouldn’t be as agonizing as the last. “What was.. this girl’s name?” I asked. In response he frowned and said, 

“ I literally can’t tell you,” he stated as fact.

“Literally?’

“I shudder when I try. Maybe I can write it out for you?” He tilted his head to one side like a dog. Strange…

“Yes, please,“ I nodded, anxiously awaiting. He pointed at the malleable, soggy dirt and dragged a line slowly across the muddy surface, collecting brown sludge on the tip of his pointer finger. In the end, it looked like a regal throne a king would rest upon. Capital L. He drew another, straighter line that stood respectfully at the foot of the L, and poked a little dot, levitating like a 2D moon above the tall line’s head. Lowercase i. He drew the two others a thin rainbow to lay under, but they were all too busy with their lives to enjoy it, except one small figure that looked like a tiny oval, standing on the left curve defiantly, like no other could try elevating to their level. Lowercase n. Another like “i” stood as a straight line, but grew a belly that felt always empty on the inside, gluttony. Lowercase d. Smooth and unexpectedly, a snake slithered in with its serpentine sashay. An enormous hiss escaping between its venom dripping fangs and gliding off the forked tongue. Lowercase s. The next stood bold and haughty, vain to the veins. It’s mouth was clearly wide open, similar to a cartoon character, laughing at whoever dared to put it down. Lowercase e. And lastly, but certainly not least, was equal to yin and yang, harmonious and content, it’s tail swishing to the left like a purring cat. Last, was lowercase y. L-i-n-d-s-e-y. Lindsey. “What a pretty name. I wish I had a name like that,” I said. Aidan jumped.

“Are you kidding?! Your name is freaking beautiful! It’s so simple, yet devastatingly effective, it’s killer. How can you wish for anything else!” Aidan yelled. To his outburst, I subtly blushed. I can’t believe a fluent Italian finds my name effective. "It’s genius, I don’t see why you hate it so much," He tilted his head away, staring not vacantly, but concentrated into the forest. Ragazza, a killer name... 

“Speaking of me… Aidan? What did you say to Jerimoth? About me, I mean.” His smile grew impossibly wider and there was a twinkle caught in his eye.

“I told him that we were friends, like she was. Friends…” He sighed serenely. “Just like they were,” He stated again tranquilly, looking to be so satisfied, he seemed to be dozing off where he sat, propping his chin up with the softest part of his palm.

“Oh,” I squeaked, charmed but a little underwhelmed. It was a tad anticlimactic, but what was I expecting, this was the best outcome. “So, do you even want me here anymore?” I finally asked the first question that came to mind today other than “will we survive?” I realize this put him in a rather awkward position where he wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, but I didn’t care. I wanted to know.

“Of course,” He softly spoke as if he was trying not to wake Jerimoth. “You’re my friend,” and that’s all he had to say. 

So we sat still until the night had nearly fallen and the crickets arose to chirp the night to dark oblivion, keeping the speckled stars company in heaven. By the crashing of the night came the red mark of my final day in, what I’ve decided to call, The Lavender Forests of the Sicurodom, and truthfully, I was a little upset to see it pass in such a scutter, carrying a friend I’d got and like to know along with a troubled, anguish shattered boy who mind grows darker and darker each minute until all he can think about is the hunt and the sweet taste of blood drenched flesh. It was the worst end, a bittersweet one. Jerimoth being the bitter, and Aidan being the sweet. I can end the day feeling confident and beautiful because of him, but weary and uncertain because of his brother. In a blink of an eye, I was laying on the couch, mumbling goodnight to the tall, lingering Aidan who stood by my feet, watching me snuggle my way into a comfortable position. When he left to his room, I noticed he left his door creaked slightly open as if the air around us would keep us together no matter the distance.


	13. Going, going...

September 17th. Friday at 5:30 A.M.

Aidan: It was a gloomy, grey, cloudy day, just like yesterday, and just like yesterday, he woke up with fiery tears streaming down his face. Unlike yesterday, he was hyperventilating, sobbing and couldn’t stop. Over and over again until his lungs got red and sore while a cut formed in the front of his dry throat. Finally, after he heard a knock on his cracking door, he stopped, as if he knew who was behind it and would hate for her to find out what he’d been experiencing. He focused hard on burning the air around his face, focusing the blast of heat around his face so it wouldn’t steam the windows or blast under the door. In a millisecond, the flames coressed around his face with not an inch to spare, leaving smoke and hard dust falling to the floor. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s powerful. Hella powerful. He’s just too humble and self-deprecating to admit it, I know. Simultaneously, he hid the green rejuvenating wisps in his eyes, which he held close just in case. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Ragazza was there, concerned about the dying noises emitting from his room. He said it was fine, when really he was struggling to breathe even in that moment. That day, they, since Aidan had to force feed himself not to starve, ate breakfast and walked quietly to the entrance of the Sicurodom, only starting the shortest small talk. There weren’t so many regular topics left to discuss. Aidan knew her favorite color, her favorite animal, her favorite movie too, though he has only seen a few, most being kingdom history lessons from Gul. He held on to these precious snip-bits about her. After a 25 minute walk to the giant, unguarded gate, they made it there in the nick-of-time, 5:30. 

“Here’s the entrance to the Sicurodom,” I tried to say with a bit of enthusiasm, but it just came out as disappointment. I wish that wall was crushed by a flaming meteor then concealed by mounds of boulders and pebbles melted together to seal that entrance to hell altogether. For a reason I was partially aware of, I was furious at the Sicurodom, forehead deep in a bloody consistency, pulling me down with its firm grasp on my bleeding, yearning heart. One could simply call it without the dramatics, Jealousy. It would literally set me on fire if it weren’t considered a negative emotion, even though it’s certainly an energizing one. I have an idea why, I’m not completely oblivious anymore, but still, whatevers making me this way is still slightly mysterious. I’m getting close to understanding it though. I hope. Ragazza gawked at the intricate floral patterns smoothly engraved on every inch of the massive stone doors. They were about 4 times taller than us, and a cabin size wide. It was especially impressive looking at a five foot distance. Without a word, Ragazza held her gaze to the wall and creeped forward to rub its smooth, cold surface. It bothered me a little, seeing how she was in awe of this cowardice cultural landmark. Maybe, since they think these deformities and abilities are contagious, which they’re obviously not, they're doing the right thing by protecting the ones in their families. But what of the ones that aren’t contagious, meaning all of them, that just want to be let in so they don’t die of punctured lungs or heart. Jerimoth, I understand, can never go into the Sicurodom because he’s eternally haunted by the death of… her until he dies of old age, but what about the people like Ragazza who wear no symptoms at all? I can imagine how terrified people will be once I enter Sicurodom in four days to become a personal soldier and to “be an example for the people.” I have to pay off all the donations somehow. I go out into the woods about every other day, staying hidden from the moon's glow in the brush, but still I can tell it’s been getting to me somehow. My eyes keep going from dark brown, it’s natural color, to a light brown. It takes a week for it to change, so maybe in five days I’ll have my normal eye color back. 

She traces the simple flower shape with her finger, what she could see from the light emitting from the flame in my hand, then she turns back to face me. “It’s beautiful,” She sighed. “Thank you for getting me here. And everything else of course…” she rubbed her ear on her shoulder, keeping her gaze on me from the corner of her eye. Her eyes were still that beautiful, vibrant amber that was richer than gold, honey, sap, rays of the sun. They were gorgeous, the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I smile stupidly, forgetting that she was admiring that dumb wall. I felt the urge to move to her, like she was a magnet, so I followed it. But as I was getting inches close to our foreheads meeting, she coughed into her elbow… on purpose. I shuffled back. What’s wrong with me?! I sank lower than the earth’s mantle, mortified, confused, frustrated with myself. Really? I mean, to even attempt what my father did in the tape where white flowers scattered the screen, lotuses laid softly in ponds, where my mother wore a white dress and flowers that held her wavy black hair in strips against her olive skin. To even attempt… I don’t even know what I'm doing, I shouldn’t attempt what I don’t know. I get a minor headache from my stupidity.

She shrugs, “Well, if it’s really five thirty like you say, I’d better get going or else I’d have to stay another day,” she laughed and the whole world around her grew brighter, literally I must admit. Flames used to be so random, but now it seems I’m finding a pattern in the chaos… but only with her help. I mean, I knew it had to do with positive feelings… just exactly what was considered positive?

“Yeah,” I whisper, really wanting it all to be over, but instead it's like being cooked in an oven. Choking in volcanic ash. “Yeah…” I repeat unknowingly. Soon the crackling of the flame in my hand as it was diminishing was the only sound left between us. Until… 

“Hey,” she spoke. “So, what’s the best way to… Gul was it? Gul’s place? The exit?” She asked, very softly as if she talked too loud she’d wake all the mice in the burrows. Most of the time, that would never be possible. 

“O-oh yeah, G-Gul.” I stutter, not sure how to put it. “Well, If you sneak behind the buildings and follow the left wall all the way around the Sicurodom, in a day or more you should reach and orchard at the beginning of the farming lands before the markets.” As I explain this to her, she furrows her brows trying to imagine what the cave of Sicurodom looks like and how trees could possibly grow without sunlight. “The right wall is basically a maze, so I’ve been told. It’s way faster to go down the middle if you know the path, but I don’t want you to risk being found out because you show clear signs of living in the sun. Please don’t go down the middle… there are dangerous people there and I’d hate myself if you got hurt…” I take the gold coins hidden inside the inner pocket of my purple jacket. I take her hand with mine and slip the gold coins onto her palm with my other, lingering at the fingertips. I let go, only knowing that I’ll have to do it again. “If you need anything, use these-“

“Woah, this is real gold!” She says, taking the coin to her lips and then biting it, leaving marks on it, but it probably won’t affect its worth. 

“Yes, it’ll take about… three days to get there… safely… But that's if you don’t sleep, please be safe Ragazza!” I plead.

“I will be. Promise.” She smiles with her mouth closed, a low effort gesture. I look up at the sky and realize the time.

Alas, it is nearing 5:40, marking the five minute countdown to the closing of the Sicurodom village, and most sadly, the closing of a short, but once meaningful friendship. Four days was all it was, all it took to create a moment unforgettable, now losing its strength to this inevitable scene I knew was to come, but I foolishly got myself involved. Ragazza, herself, looked a little despaired too, but I was probably imagining it. Actually, It was probably awkwardness, eagerness to leave this place, especially me. I don’t blame her, she’s right by knowing that I’m nothing but wrong. 

She smiled at me. “Thank you for all you’ve done,”

“What? No! Thank you! My brother wouldn't be back if it weren’t for you!” I exclaimed. 

“I doubt that,” she assures me, moving the surprisingly swift opening door, a secret of the ancients. Too swiftly for me, she opened that door. From a quiet whisper in the back of my mind rapidly going to screams, shouts, and wails being the only thing I can think and pretend to hear. ‘No, no, no, No, NO’ repeated in my head until she whispered “Bye,” sending chills down my spine, the shadows awakening to tear every last bit of flesh on the inside of my skull. It escalated really fast. I could feel every one of them trying to claw their way out, trying to dig a hole in my forehead out her forcefully. ‘Am I dying? Is this what it feels like to be torn from the inside out?’ I thought to myself. Despite all of this, I beared no distress on my face or was too pained to mouth the word “Goodnight,” something that became kind of a ritual Ragazza started one afternoon. Still, I’m not sure if she saw beyond the edge of the closing door. 

‘My, she’s eager to leave, isn’t she?’ A small girlish voice giggled in my ear. I was in too much panic to put a name to this voice, especially since shadows don’t usually talk over each other, but as a jumbled unit. 

‘Yeah, it’s not surprising really,’ I thought to myself, thinking my mind was safe until I got a response. A response?

‘Why not?’ She added, using this “creepy” young girl’s voice to try to scare me or freak me out, but nothing about shadows shocked me anymore.

‘Wow, I’ve never had a conversation with a shadow before. Well, I was probably eerily friendly, off putting perhaps? But you knew that, didn’t you?’ I ask, annoyed I have no privacy in my own mind.

‘Of course, I know how you feel, I know how Ragazza feels, hell, I know how Jerimoth feels! I know how you’re going to feel, the start and the finish. I foresee it all, I always have. Yet control is up to some other force, I can just bend it to my will until one day it’ll successfully snap. I’m sure you know the name of this yet defeated force,’ She whispers again, much louder in my mind with excellent power.

‘Shadows sure are full of themselves,’ I grumble. I’ve figured recently shadows have just been part of my imagination, just thought they could’ve been my creation. These shadows are just ideas my subconscious plays with to torment me, or does that sound absurd? ‘Spare me this ramble, You’re so fake! I’m so tired of you. You have no control over me, you hear me?!’ I declare, but she suddenly went quiet. Strange, I was expecting a rebuttal, but then I understood when I noticed Ragazza still standing behind the door, watching my frozen body as it stood completely still… somewhere else at the moment. She slammed the door, It seemed, and as the giant stone barrier screamed breathily out in agony, she, the little girl, whispered from the chamber, the words traveling through the wind rushing out of the Sicurodom, a chilling reverberating whisper that carried deep malice, 

‘You’ll see, Shapa,’ I just stood there, gawking now, like someone had smacked me clean in the face. That sounded… real! From the outside and not inside my mind. And Ragazza… she actually left. 

….

As I sluggishly trudged back to my “empty” home, I thought more about the mysterious voice, mostly to distract me from what I was feeling again. It was real, right? It was a little girl. “I knew it, I’ve lost it,” I sigh because recently I’ve been reminded of all the loss I’ve ever experienced in my 15 year life. First Lindsey when she was only 10 falling and being swept away by a current, screaming for my help when I couldn’t move to save her, then Jerimoth shortly after to scoriggiatism due to the belief that I murdered her (which I might as well have seeing as I did nothing to save her) and still lost to chilling emotion, consequently my parents give in to their emotions too, leaving me with nothing, and when I thought I finally had a real friend, I mean, a real friend like Jerimoth had, it was all gone in a matter of time. At least I still have Gul. Jerimoth is going to revert to his Scorrigiato form again soon, maybe a couple weeks if I’m lucky. Poor thing, he’s already missed out on nearly four years of his life, even more. He remembers everything from when he was smaller though. Now he’s twelve and he’s still a prodigy for his age, I believe. In fact, somehow he’s even smarter.

The chilly winds gusted around me and made sounds like eerie singing of a kingdom choir, and though all the dreary walk home I was thinking of Jerimoth, mainly to avoid the black hole consuming my brain from the emotion to the sense. I was biting my lip, digging my fingernails into my palms, singing randomly out loud just to distract the ache dripping from my head to the rest of my body. It made me sore and slow, but ignoring that type of thing is what I do best, I know. It’ll be gone in a few days… and so will I. I realized I’ve never known myself at all really, until I started talking to Ragazza, then I turned into something unfamiliar, someone more aware of what’s going on around them and how life actually functioned. I was someone, not a monotonous shell wasting their life waiting for something new to happen, not a light with one colorful setting, ignoring the dark shadows in the room, I was not just “happy” anymore, but instead I felt disgust for myself, worry for the ones around me, the creeping loneliness that’s stuck like sap as I’ll watch him grow wrathful by every passing day. How am I ever going to live like this? Will there ever be a way out of this cycle? Possibly never.

As I was nearing the home I’ve always known, I was startled by the looks I had not gotten used to, the looks of an older, but barely taller, Jerimoth. He was sitting heavily on the porch, slouching with his chin resting on his knuckles. He was pondering something. His fringe naturally kept its shape, even with its volume and however the wind blew. Actually, I think sometimes he freezes strands together so no one will know what the other side of his face looks like. I’ve known him since he was a bald baby, of course I know what his face looks like. I cautiously, I found my spot to the left of him on the porch. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. “Hey,” I squeak. His response showed he was feeling a lot better already.

“What? Is there something you want?” He growled, using his eyelashes as weapons of guilt. 

“I just wanted to talk,” I sigh. He stays silent. Does he really hate me that much? Well, I guess he has good reason to. A flood of shame ran down to my core and up to my visable breath which was abnormal seeming as it was no colder than 65 degrees Fahrenheit, but I was used to regulating my temperature to be this hot, the opposite of what Jerimoth does. Near a frosty lake in a blizzard you wouldn’t see Jerimoth’s breath, but only on the hottest of days. Then I noticed how things were already getting colder and was ready to assume that it was Jerimoth’s doing, but never did it occur to me that it might’ve been me loosing control of my own ability. I’d realize this later.

“I-“ he exhaled. “I saw something,” he began out of the blue. Obviously no pun intended there.

“What do you mean? When?” I ask, quizzically narrowing my facial features. 

“Six years ago…” he murmured to the point of almost in audibility. Six years ago?! He was six years old, a human!

“Six years ago?! Why didn’t you tell me-“ 

“Because I didn’t know what I saw exactly! I still don’t,” he yelled. Then he sighed, letting go of the tension for a moment to sum up what exactly happened that was so unforgettable at the young age of six. “Well, there was this glowing ring, it was light blue and… it looked like it was just floating there,” he explained.

“What the heck are you even talking about?” I say, surprised and confused beyond understanding. It sounded fictitious, what he was saying, and Jerimoth always has a reason for things… except the moon, of course.

“Hey! Will you listen?!” He snaps. “This is what I saw! Do you want to hear the rest of my story or not?” I nod, apologizing for the interruption. Sometimes recently, I wish I was like my mother, mute. Then I wouldn’t be burdened with the responsibility of being careful with spontaneous words. Instead, I could write down what I’m really thinking, something so thought out it could never hurt anyone. There’s only one problem with that… not being able to tell someone, spontaneously, how you really feel. The intentions of the words, the phrasing, wouldn’t carry through the writing. And the feeling. Jerimoth continues. “At the moment I had this irisistable urge to walk though it,” he said, mysteriously and mystically staring above the trees like he’d seen a winged creature. I coughed, choking on my own saliva because of what I was hearing. But even though I had wanted to ask ‘why?’, I didn’t want to irritate Jerimoth any further. “So I did. I walked through it,” he said very slowly. I sat there intently listening, hanging on every simple word. “And that’s when I saw something weird,” he paused.

“What was it?” I ask, impatient.

“I saw… you,” he said. Me? I squinted at him, thinking this was some kind of joke. He just remained focused. “I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I’m dead serious,” he barks. “I saw sixteen year-old you and that girl… Ragazza was it,” I frowned.

“I’m sure it was just a weird trick of the moonlight-“

“It was day,” he interrupted fiercely.

“Ok, then maybe you just saw a reflection of the sky off my knife or something when you were a scoraggiato and you were confused,” I assure him.

“No, I wasn’t a scoraggiato, I swear,” he says quite calmly. “And even if all that’s true, how can you explain me seeing myself? How was I, as I look now, walking behind you two while you were talking?” He asked, exasperated. “You didn’t even look like yourself! Your shoulders were broader, you were wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and Ragazza was wearing a black, knitted sweater she probably has never owned. Actually, it looked a little like dad’s,” he spoke.

“I don’t own a long-sleeved white shirt. This must’ve been a dream, thi-“

“Why don’t you believe me?!” He yelled, standing straight up from where he was sitting. I stared, surprised a little, worried I shortened his stay as himself, as he was now. I sigh, ready to believe my brother over my own sense. Honestly, I should believe him, he’s seemingly always right and I’ve been seeing weird things too, so who am I to doubt him?

“Okay, I do, but what does this mean? Scientifically,” I ask. He groans, rubbing his face. This was how I knew for sure he didn’t have an answer.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. I don’t have evidence. Just speculation,” he sighs, sitting back down next to me. “There’s just some things that can’t be explained, I guess,” he lays his forehead on his knees, looking frustrated that he can’t make logic of this phenomenon. 

“Yeah, like how mom went mute. Oh right, I need to show you. Mom used to speak!” I exclaim, but he just shrugs.

“That’s not very suprising,” he says, lifting his face to rest on his forearm. I was stunned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I heard dad say something about it. She probably went mute and everything else because she was exposed to the moonlight for long periods of time,” he explained. It was a little anticlimactic, something I thought was mysterious and perplexing, but I guess the simplest answer is always the most likely. “Oh, also if you’re exposed to it for as long as she might’ve been, it doesn’t matter how old or young you are, the side effects will be serious. I think. I don’t know, this is just what dad explained to me,” he reasoned.

“Oh,” I looked to the ground, feeling a little stupid that I had to ask such a genius for a simple answer when I knew very well the effects of the moon. My skin was a result of that, at the small age of negative decimal five. All I know is that I was born blue, I have no idea how I was born or whether or not blue was just a natural thing and I have some sort of illness. If I were created on earth, where Ragazzas from, would I still be blue? Anyways, my brother is pretty normal looking, even his face is more normal than he lets himself believe. The only thing quote-on-quote weird about him are his powers, scoraggiato and ice, excluding five mile teleportation because I’m pretty sure that’s just because he unlocked a certain part of his mind. He only looks different when he’s sad enough, and even then no one but me and the rest of our family. As we sat on the decaying porch, I thought there wasn’t much more to talk about, but...

“So,” Jerimoth spoke. Really? He actually wants to keep talking to me? Me? I smiled at him, but Jerimoth didn’t notice, nor would he care. But I do, talking to him now is almost as joyful as it was talking to Ragazza, but the grudge is in the way of its maximum potential. It faintly reminded me of how lonely I was, being excited to be speaking to someone and just have them respond back. It was pitiful and made me wonder how I could’ve felt with isolation just fine before this. Was I that numb and unaware of pain? “Do you have any stories?” He tangents from the subject before, which I was mildly glad of.

“Well, nothing really,” I mumble. Finally, out of the corner of my eye I see him turn to face me. He frowns.

“Nothing? No promotions, no people, no disasters?” He shakes his head. 

“Well, I’d rather not talk about that last one. You’d for sure make fun of me,” I lower my head, knowing he’s going to ask persistently what it is. 

“What happened,” he cocked his head to the side. I sigh, remembering the incident. I was thinking before about how fire powers are hard to control, how you have to be so careful as not to burn off all your hair. 

“Long story short, I burned my legs and-” I murmured, hoping he didn’t hear, but he clearly did because he smirked and quietly laughed though his teeth, interrupting my sentence. Oh well, if he stayed, he’d find out anyway since I’ve always told him everything. He’s my brother, sure he’s distant, but he’s the only one I can talk to about, well, everything. He helps me understand things, make sense of it all. Why I told him this? Well, it’s just to get used to doing it again. I don’t know.

“Are you serious?” He chuckles. I nod, lifting the fabric of my pant-leg. He gasps, “Oh, you’re not kidding,” then he starts laughing more aggressively, hiding his face in his hands, seeing how blue, smooth, and hairless they were. I wasn’t focused enough and the consequences were appropriate. Fire powers are reckless and damaging if you don’t learn to be focused, precise, and controlling. What makes a spark is less predictable than what it’ll do when it’s summoned. Sometimes the flame will be small, sometimes it’ll be roaring. It depends on a factor, or two, that I don’t yet know. My legs weren’t burned like my cheek, no, they weren’t bad at all. What made the grey mark on my cheek was a molten tear I wiped across my face creating vertical streaks, leaving a flaming path that burned its way into my fragile skin. I was weak and vulnerable, a crying toddler, but when I burned my calves I wasn’t as susceptible to permanent marks. I was just a little unfocused. 

“Is there any way to fix it?” I ask, hoping there was a solution although it didn’t much matter to me. I could live without it. He chuckled, a smirk full of mischief.

“There’s an easy solution…” He pauses, “I’m not going to tell you,” 

“What?! Why?” I ask. He laughs,

“Hmmm. I don’t think I want to. I’ll wait for you to figure it out yourself,” His grin grows.

“Wait,” I think for a minute. “All I have to do is heal myself back to the incident then reverse the process and send the energy back into the trees! You’re a genius!” I exclaim. 

“I told you it was easy, Aidan,” He nodded. My healing powers heal back to when things were broken, even before. I can just take life out of the trees or anything living and de-age as I please, but with the same spark conditions as fire. I can heal myself out of existence if I wanted to, or I can wriggle the energy from the source in me, speeding the aging process. It seems unfair in the way of life, how I have the ability to cheat death if those conditions are met, but most of the time when I want to use it, it doesn’t work. I don’t even get to see the mystical, wavy green dust particals that bring and take life. It wasn’t healing, but sort of a life transfer system. What would happen if all the life in the world were gone? I guess I’d die with it. I look at both of my smooth legs and wonder if this time it’ll work. I direct my hands to the trees and, surprisingly, through the solid cracks of the bark, little wispy green slivers snake their way into the tips of my fingers. My palms hover over the effected area and the stored energy began to heal it on its own with no such instruction. Once I assumed it worked, going as far as a year back, which didn’t shrink my legs because I didn’t focus on the whole leg, I took the energy back and released it into the air as it spread in many directions in the forest. “Nice,” Jerimoth murmured, understanding the luck and struggle that went into doing this kind of thing. 

His powers were negative emotion fueled, but negative emotion is way easier to obtain, way easier to recognize. I could be happy and still my powers wouldn’t work, so there is a mysterious element to it. Either that or I’m not as happy as I think I am, which could well be the case now that I knew how alone I was.

“Oh right, promotions. I’m becoming a Sicurodom soldier on my birthday,” I say feign enthusiastically.

“Oh, cool. I guess it’s like a ‘blue people rights movement’ kinda thing?” He laughs a little. This is probably the best and only thing Gul has ever done for his kingdom, but how does he even know me in the first place. Maybe because of all the favors he’s done for my father? But why this? Was I given to pay off their debt and was told to believe it was for the greater good of the kingdom? Well, I guess even then I wouldn’t mind.

“Yeah, I guess,” I chuckle.

“Hey, how about that Ragazza that left this morning, that’s another story,” I heard Jerimoth’s voice clear and echoed through the woods ahead. Clearly he had been saving this topic for a while. He sounded, quite honestly, a little anguished and upset by the subject… as I was. When I heard her mentioned, my spine decided it couldn’t handle the weight of her name and bent like her glorious memory had been a vicious punch in the guts, a knife strike to the core, and I slouched, bent down to it’s will while clutching my stomach like whatever breakfast I ate this morning was going to to form a tsunami at the back of my tongue. But there was no breakfast left, instead there were only heaps of empty feelings that felt like an electrified lake. It was a hard to explain feeling, but it was like your lungs were rubbed with feathers and it was irritated because it’s ticklish, as ridiculous as that sounds. It was the realization of melancholy whipping through your breath, a sigh but with an empty feeling trailing behind. That’s how I felt when I heard her name.

“Yeah, Ragazza.” I mumble, wanting to avoid this topic even if I had already accepted it. “She was right by the stone wall. You know, that vertical cliff right beside the entrance?” He nodded, gesturing me to continue. “I found her there. At first I didn’t know what to do, I just snapped, but not in the bad way. An unusual way like breaking out of a fever or something,” I comb my bangs with my blue fingers. “Then I saw you and knew I had to do something, so I grabbed her wrist and ran back to our house, but then she spooked when she realized she was staying with some random blue guy and ran off at two in the morning. Luckily, I was outside practicing my aim so I saw her and followed her to make sure she didn’t run into any trouble, or else I would’ve cut my losses and let her go, waiting patiently for the next female to fall. She ran into our dad, the bear, and-“

“Wait, our dad, the bear?!” He laughed. I explained to him that the bear would ramble to himself about the moon like our father would and that I’ve seen him on numerous occasions doing this. He laughs, “There are no bears left in this forest! I’ve cleared them all, I’m certain. And do you hear yourself? Our dad, a bear?” He joked.

“Hey, I believed you and now it’s your turn to believe me!” I shout irritably.

“Fine, carry on,” He rested his head on his hand.

“She ran into the bear and I took a blow to the face for her,” Jerimoth winced, imagining how painful that would feel, for a bear’s thick, rough nails to scrape the walls of your flesh. “Then you came, you probably remember that part,” he nodded, rubbing a scar above his eyebrow. “The next day was amazing, I can’t explain to you how fun it is to talk to someone from Earth! She’s from Lavorando! A city slash countryside that owned a highshool marching band! I mean, she said they didn’t have any guitarists in the band which I thought was absurd, but she said it was fun when she played the clarinet. What a cool name. Her favorite color was purple, she likes artists The Beatles, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Patsy Cline. Oh, and The Queen! Can you believe it? Even royalty expresses their feelings through music!” I yell in enthusiasm. Jerimoth just laughs at me.

“And then,” He said sarcastically.

“Oh sorry, I’ll tell you about that later,” I cough, then continue, now excited that I was ignoring her absence. “We practiced that song and then I escaped to my lesson later at night when she was falling asleep. On my way to my lesson I saw mom,” Jerimoth made a suspicious expression. “ I know what you’re thinking, it’s just like dad. I’ll show you sometime soon,” I say.

“Have you,” Jerimoth croaked. “Seen her,” He asked.

“Oh, no,” I mumbled solemnly. We both stared at the ground, mourning her for an instant. He told me to continue, so I did. “She told me to remember Ragazza’s amber eyes, but I don’t know what that meant. Anyway, the weirdest thing happened with Gul,” I say.

“What?” Jerimoth asked, probably remembering Gul for the first time in years.

“I told him about my plan and he started laughing,” Jerimoth looked at me funny.

“Like, he thought the plan was humorous?” Jerimoth questioned, intrigued.

“No, he said something about ‘girls falling out of the sky for Shapas’ or something,” I explain. “He sent me on my way early with a bunch of tapes, which we can watch later if you want. Then yesterday, which I’m sure you can recall,” He sighs.

“Yes, very clearly,” He grinned and I smiled back, glad he’s finally okay and his old self. It was a reliever for everything that I had worried about before, how Jerimoth was going to detest me so much, he’d leave in a couple days. It’s still going to happen, but right now I’m glad and nothing but the concern I have for Ragazza is going to get in my way… for now at least.

……...

For the rest of the day, I just talked incessantly about Ragazza while Jerimoth listened, a little irritated that was all I talked about. That was all I had to talk about, even if it brought back the stinging emptiness in my chest. Jerimoth and I meanwhile made another breakfast for which I made saccharine petal pancakes Jerimoth picked. That only reminded me more of Ragazza, who now added anxiety into the mix just like how I added those sweet, frosted saccharine petals to the pancake mix. He played guitar a while I wrote my final entry in my journal, or diary, whatever someone would call it. He played for two hours as I napped on the couch, listening as it put me to sleep. It was 10:00 when he woke me up and we talked some more. Eventually, Jerimoth read me a scientific book about rocks and gems, which was more fascinating than I thought it would be and brought back more memories of our early childhood. We had lunch and later at 4:30 we headed down to the Mad house to read more and watch, or rewatch, the tapes. This was about the time when things started to get really bad… within me. As I saw again my young, friendly parents I completely lost all control. The emtiness grew and thrashed inside me, my mind went numb whenever they were laughing, it echoed in my head like screams of the shadows. My vision went in and out of focus, I couldn’t help myself but emit a wheezy chuckle every time certain things happen, then I’d sink back down, farther than I’ve depth than ever reached before. I felt like I was drowning in their joy and sinking in my own despair. I wanted it to stop, but I knew already it was a ceaseless journey I’d have to endure until my eyelids shut and my brain settled down to rest. Jerimoth, after plenty of hours reading before watching, fell asleep on the arm of the couch, head resting on the cushion behind him, embraced in a soft, wool blanket, the third we owned. He didn’t snore, in fact he was breathing slowly on purpose. Ice powers can also control heart rate, and are magnetic but that’s another story. I didn’t want to leave him down here alone so I turned off the TV and restlessly slept the night away on the other arm, bothered for a reason I knew, and simultaneously a reason I didn’t. What got me to sleep eventually was knowing Jerimoth is finally be himself and experience life as a human, and not as a scoraggiato for a minimum of one week.


End file.
